


Crossfire

by Sorianis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, EVERYONE is afraid of Angry Regis, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I love Regis, Noctis Protection Squad 2k17, Other, Papa Bear! Regis, Regis gets angry, Regis will fight you because he loves Noct, no one gets to hurt Noctis while Regis is still alive and kicking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10493670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorianis/pseuds/Sorianis
Summary: Noctis saw it.He saw the one in a million chances before his very eyes.Clarus wasn't looking.Cor wasn't looking.Hell, not even Nyx was looking.He didn't have time to pinch himself to ensure that he wasn't imagining it-so he just warped in front of his father and bit the bullet.He'd be damned if something terrible could happen to his father just because no one else was looking.In which Noctis steps in the way to protect his father and nearly becomes a martyr in the process.Regis instead becomes the protected, and upon cradling the bleeding body of his child once again, reminds everyone how fierce he can be.Featuring PapaBear!RegisScared!ClarusAnd a merry band of Glaives!(AND an updated version of the letter in the last chapter)





	1. Blow Us All Away

**Author's Note:**

> me: *adores the father/son dynamic of Regis and Noct*  
> me: I need moar of this  
> me:*Writes some*  
> Regis: *MAKES IT SAD*

Noctis saw it.

 

He saw the one in a million chances before his very eyes.

 

Clarus wasn't looking.

 

Cor wasn't looking.

 

_Hell, not even Nyx was looking._

 

He didn't have time to pinch himself to ensure that he wasn't imagining it-

\- so _he just warped in front of his father and he bit the bullet._

 

Well, technically, it was more along the lines _of other parts of his body_ taking bullets than his mouth before the barrier magic could be set up, but nevertheless.

 

_He was already feeling the pain shoot through his body on the scale of sharp and calculated explosions and-_

 

_It just hurts-it hurts- it hurts_

 

He knew that after Maralith, his body would be a conglomerate of knotted and ugly scars, and that royal blood would always came with the chase of various assassins' weapons and a target on his back. But he'd always been comforted by the idea that more people would be coming for his head more so than they would for his father.

 

He was the reckless young heir who was filled with youthful energy, ideas, and the duty to destroy any of his Kingdom's enemies through the blessing of the crystal, the old rulers, and the Astrals. They should be going after him first, not his father.

 

Regardless, _he'd be damned_ if something terrible happened to his father just because no one else was looking.

 

All Noctis remembers is the sensation of shock, the weightlessness of warping, the smell of his magic, and throwing up a protect barrier between the throne and the barrage of bullets that seemed to be raining onto them, and then the sensation of the bulle- _By the Six that hurts._

 

And then spots were in his vision before hearing panicked screams and the equally panicked expression of his father above him. He was barely able to note that his world was falling on his side and that his father was actually speaking to him.

"-oct! Noctis! Stay with me!"

 

Sound was muffled at this point, suddenly every sound but his father's voice was a watery and smothered. Was there water in his ears? Surely he hadn't felt water there, but every sound seemed garroted and hazy. He tried blinking, trying to focus and get rid of the largening stains that were darkening in his vision.

 

"Dad. You're hurt." He sounded so tired and raspy- why did he sound like that?

 

"No, Noctis." Regis looked over himself the horror in his eyes scared Noctis, looking hesitant to take his eyes away from probably was a mess that was once his torso.

"This is _your_ blood. _You're_ the one that's hurt."

 

 _'Heh'_ His mind could barely make a cohesive thought as he scanned his father's clothes for any blood spatters that weren't his own. _'So long as he's safe.'_

 

Noctis barely remembered opening his mouth, but was sure something completely incomprehensible had come from him before his head fell back and blackness overtook the outline of the ceiling that he was staring at.

 

_"Huh, I forgot there was still art on the ceiling here."_

 

His last image is a spotty one, filled with fading screams, the smell of Lucian magic, and an ancient likeness of Etro before he blacks out completely, feeling weightless again.

 

\---

 

Clarus hadn't been so afraid before in his life.

A mere instance ago, he was talking to his son, reminding him that the worst thing tonight would be for Iris to trip on her heels or for the Prince to feel the pain of a papercut. Something small and manageable, easily dealt with by no one because security was the least of their problems tonight, because their planning had gone so smoothly, not even trivial things could make this night go wrong.

 

He wasn't asking for the world to take that as a challenge.

 

Because the sound of someone clipping a gun magazine in place was too loud in comparison to _not being there at all like it should have been._

 

He whipped around and prayed that this wasn't happening, that there wouldn't be yet another attempt on Regis's life today, that everyone could enjoy a peaceful night of food and socializing. Clarus prayed, in a masochistic way, that he was dreaming and imagining these horrible things and that he was just hearing something else, _anything else_.

 

He also had the fear that he wouldn't make it in time to protect his King and long-standing friend when it came down to it.

 

Then he heard the heart shattering sound of bullets heading for the throne, the sound of his heart hammering in his ears and Regis's cry, an echo from the time when his voice was hushed and hopeful for his son to wake from the coma a demon had placed him in. That tone was only in his Majesty's voice when his son's life was in danger.

 

' _Was Noctis in trouble too?'_

 

A voice in the back of Clarus's mind reassured him that Regis had to be ok in order to make that sound; but that also implied the fact that now the fear had shifted to Noctis, the crown prince, and his son's charge. That sound of parental fear for their child's life was one Clarus knew he was going to face one day; Gladiolus had sworn in the tradition of their family that Regis wasn't ever going to have to use that fearful sound again.

 

But was it too much to ask that he wouldn't hear it in his life once more?

 

What seemed to be the worst part of this whole mess _\- The hands-down most painful aspect of Regis's cry was the fact that both patriarch and the heirs to the Amicitia Line were present to hear it in the heartbreaking crescendo of an attack on their Lieges_.

 

' _The Caelum line could end today, here, with all of its protectors in the same damn room where we took our oaths in.'_ Clarus drew a sword before he was even completely turned around to see, to his relief, the throne with its current and future occupant behind a wall of barrier magic as the sound of could of bullets rained on them.

 

The uncompromising state of the Lucian magic in that barrier was enough to assure him that one of them was at least alive, and that he didn't fail so miserably.

 

He still didn't know what to think of the situation he saw.

 

He saw a figure fall on the platform, but it wasn’t the King, Regis had been kneeling to catch the one who had fallen.

The obsidian tuft of hair was Noctis, the damn boy had gotten out of his way to get hurt again.

 

The shaking sound of the barrage of bullets had ended only because the Glaives had warped on the perpetrator the four-second span in which he tried to drop the weapon and run; probably after realizing how futile this was.

 

Clarus ignored the scuffle and ran past it, taking the steps two at a time to reach Regis-

-Regis who was unharmed but covered in blood and tenderly holding his son, trying to use healing magic on him, silent and stoic and shaking hands in near panic as if _he_ was the one who had been wounded.

 

Clarus felt his heart stop at the terrible sight that had become of the Crown Prince he had once guarded the cradle of. Regis seemed to be incomprehensive of anything else that didn’t involve salvaging the chances of his child's survival.

 

The shock on the face of the always composed man concerned him, because had realized that it was only the calm before the storm. He saw Cor lunge forwards to the royals with a potion in his hands and a steely look on the Marshall's eyes as he administered it to the young Prince, had Noctis always looked so sickly?

 

When the King couldn't think, Clarus thought for him.

 

The shield of the King stood up and squared his shoulders, almost unaware of his secondhand nature _of 'Protect, defend, and destroy_ ' took over in its eerie calmness; one couldn't survive moments like these without any and all forms of internal focus. He turned around to see the commotion of what was once a small gathering of nobles and recently converted Niflheim families, and now a hushed panic in the throne room. Gladiolus and Iris were already hesitant at the other set of steps to the throne before their senses of duty kicking in, Iris heading to a Crownsguard who was trying to calm the crowd while trying to find any other infiltrators, and Gladio diving back into the fray to find any accomplices that had been missed.

 

Now the King was holding his son's bleeding form in front of the throne, afraid for his life.

 

In the back of his mind, Clarus was almost more afraid of the perpetrator's life if anything else.

 

Regis was a dam in a sense; always composed and unfaltering, but never trying to hide the such strong undercurrents of divine and ancient power underneath. The kind of discipline that reined it all back would always would amaze the Shield as the king wore nothing but a face of stoic calm. The last thing he had seen drive him into an actual rampage was when a demon had attacked his boy as a child, leaving him halfway into death's doorway and wearing the same dulling look of blue in his eyes Clarus saw now. That was one of the few times Regis's eyes turned red and the demon was already dead where it slithered, reminding everyone present that night that the King couldn't be helpless or defenseless even if he actively tried. But that was over a decade ago, and surely Regis has had a lot of pent up anger since then.

 

He heard the doors lock shut before he saw them.

 

There were old, and towering statues placed at the doors to the chamber. Stone models an ancient and famous pair of a Kingsglaive and Crownsguard who were known for their fierce protection of their king. Their presence was symbolic of the two different layers of protection that stood between the Crown and those that wished him harm; ensuring anyone who entered the chamber had to pass through those and be safe enough to be in the presence of the Throne.

 

To Clarus, they also were a reminder of his failure and that all of the ornaments and decorations in the Castle came from past kings who were obsessed with safeguards upon safeguards.

 

Safeguards that failed to the point where the Prince himself had to do Clarus's own job for him, possibly costing them the life that these safeguards were meant to protect.

 

"Gladiolus! Iris!"

His son's head snapped up from pinning down the body of another perpetrator  and passed the hold onto  the two Crownsguard members that had been aiding him. He knew that Gladiolus wanted to feel useful in a situation like this, help eliminate threats before they could evolve into something more; but he realized that he had much to learn before they could fully bear the responsibilities of their family's duty.

 

Iris herself had to step from scanning the jittery crowd that had conglomerated by the now locked doors and nearly sprint over in order to be at the throne steps by the same time her brother was. Both met his eyes with almost deference and the martial positions he had taught to them, with Iris changing her heels for more sensible flats for better footing to do what he would assign them.

 

"Clarus!" The King's voice was thundering over the roar of the chaos.

"Your Majesty!"

"Have your children escort Cor in taking Noct to the Infirmary. You and I will take things from here." His voice had almost lowered into a growl, and Clarus was sure the Crownsguard to his left was very close to soiling himself.

 

_Right, get the children out before they see why they should fear you instead of admire you. Great idea Regis._

Part of that thought was sarcastic, but another part made him thankful that they didn't have to see what was yet to come.

 

Clarus rarely saw Regis angry nowadays, but he considered the situation; but if _he_ were a king and he saw his only child standing in the line of fire for him, only to be carried off to the infirmary by the people who should have been protecting them both, he too would be filled with the righteous fury that was now sparking the King's eyes.

 

Cor gently lifted the boy in his arms, but nearly toppled over backwards by standing up too fast. Clarus narrowed his eyes at the usually cautious man. Was Noctis so unexpectedly light for Cor to rock backwards like that?

 

They exited quickly through the typical Council entrance to the left from the throne, quietly followed by three Glaives that were ready to follow and defend the unconscious Prince.

 

Clarus could only hope that there weren't more assassins waiting in the halls for them.

 

He turned away from the closing doors behind them to see Regis standing to his full height, covered in the vibrant crimson blood _of his son,_ and nearly shaking in rage as he saw the small crystals in the air preceding summoning the Royal Armiger. 

 

Clarus stepped closer to his friend.

 

"Regis, we must choose our next actions carefully."  
 

"Bring me the attackers." Clarus wasn't sure if he had even been _heard,_ but four men had been brought forwards nonetheless; Roughly forced down and held there by some Crownsguard. They were obviously of Niflheim origin, from their features and clothing, they seemed to have snuck in from amongst the other nobles that had arrived today to switch their allegiances.

 

Regis had summoned his sword and slammed it into the granite in front of the throne,  summoning the Armiger fully now in all of its celestial glory; the crystals in the air pulling forth the blue phantom swords from the steps to throne in a blue-violet glow. It was entrancing to watch for Clarus, but very likely a terrible one for the assassins. He almost smiled at the cowering _fear_ that overtook their worn expressions.

 

 _' Good'_ He thought, probably too proud for the moment, but refrained from allowing it to show. _'Let these fools serve as a warning to anyone who thinks the Crown was weak.'_

 

 _Because they had hurt Regis's boy_ , they had brought weapons and intended to kill; and Noctis became the only line of defense between their King and death in that moment. It was shameful when Clarus remembered how there were supposed to be multiple other lines of defense for Regis that included himself that were supposed to be there.

 

"I hope you choose your next words carefully now, or I might just let the old kings smite you down right now."

 

Sometimes, even Clarus forgot how downright _terrifying_ his friend could be. Cloaked in power, magic, and the blessings of _violent and powerful_ Astrals, Regis's entire form at this moment was a pinnacle of divine judgement.

 

"My first question: Who sent you?"

 

The thunder behind the King's voice was powerful and already seemed indicative of just how doomed these men were about to be. Magic was crackling, creating a static pressure to the audience chamber's already fierce tension, Clarus was almost sure he saw the fear of celestial anger reach into some Crownsguard as he ordered them to relocate the guests for questioning.

 

Looking over at the green fury in Regis's eyes, Clarus couldn't miss the shift in color, the glowing impossible to miss even under the snarl that took the normally stoic King's features. Emerald was currently rippling into a shade of gold that could blend in with the blood-spattered throne behind him. The flaring colors were at the brink of engulfing themselves in the inferno of magic that would change the King's eyes to the shade of scarlet. Clarus knew that color well, _that_ was the color that called the Astrals to the Lucian King's will and would lick battlefields clean, leave no survivors and only charred ashes in its wake.

 

Regis was normally cold when he doled out punishment, much like his father. Under other circumstances, he was quiet and calculating, making sure each punishment would ironically and poetically fit the crime that had been committed. It had been _very long_ since he'd seen that particular shade overtake his friend's eyes, phosphorescent as they were filled with emotion and a coldness that poets and tales of old would spend _years_ trying to describe and capture into words. And here, right here and now in this very moment of space, Regis could have had the entire Hexathon down, and they'd be tripping over themselves to answer his beck and call.

 

Clarus spared a glance over to the last of the other guests of the party being ushered out by the Crownsguard for questioning; it was probably for the best, considering how things here might just turns out.

He stands at Regis's side regardless, and only hopes that the Prince survived this, 


	2. Stay Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor and tell their side of the story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First we see Cor, then Regis.
> 
>  
> 
> HOLY CHOCOBOS you guys!!! I cannot even fathom how many of your comments left me screaming and flailing in joy!
> 
> I am super glad that everyone like this story, i hope that I delivered!

Cor Leonis never considered himself a man of emotion.

 

He saw himself as a man of honor and of duty as naturally as the weight of the katana on his hip.

 

But never emotional.

 

But what ran through his veins the second he had his back turned was something _poisonous_ of the likes that made his heart stop in his chest.

 

He sees the protect barrier, hears the shouting, and he takes a sharp breath.

 

-And relearns how to _breathe_ when he sees the barrier magic and Regis standing up, _he was ok-_

 

And then the breath is caught in his throat again when he sees Noctis- _the Prince-_ crumble and fall backwards into Regis's grip, who looks utterly terrified as he had eased them both down to the floor.

 

Out of his periphery, he sees the glaives warp into action, sparks and fractals of magic zipping past him and the smell of magic pervades his nose, landing directly onto the men before they had a chance to fully drop their weapons.

 

(how did those get past security? -they weren't supposed to be here)

 

He sees Gladiolus and Iris spring into action and it reminds him that his katana was absent, He summoned it and _sprinted_ to the stairs to make sure that his friend. Was Noctis hurt? How did he end up in front of the throne so fast? Did he warp and faint? It wasn't unlikely, Regis had been prone to doing it when he was younger, leaving him to carry a Prince Regis in stasis more often than not through hidden hallways and to the royal chambers in awkward hours and he just hopes Regis is alright and _oh,-_

 

_Oh, that's too much blood._

 

It was Noctis who was bleeding and cradled in his father's lap, and Cor was ashamed to admit he was more afraid of it being Regis's blood than it Noctis's. Regis had a blank stare that only told Cor that he was in autopilot, going through the motions of summoning archaic healing magic and allowing a green mist to flow through a body that was too young to be a political target.

 

(It had never mattered that Noctis was an adult now, the seniority that Cor had on him would always make the Price too young to be such a target. He conveniently forgets how many times he and Clarus had saved Regis when they were that young, it wasn't the same. Noctis was supposed to be protected by literally everyone, not trying to be the protector.)

 

He isn’t even thinking coherently when he takes the hi-potion out of his jacket and nearly drops it when he puts it in the grasp of the cold fingers.

 

No, no, no. Those hands weren't supposed to be cold as death. Not now, not ever. They were supposed to be alive and moving and asking Cor how to hold a sword again, like when he was ten and Cor still was his bodyguard.

 

He uses his hand around the fading strength in the royal hand and crushes the potion, ~~praying~~ hoping that he hadn't failed Noctis before he had even ascended the throne. He watches Regis's face carefully, seeing the anger rippling under the surface, and notices something horrifying.

 

Narrowed eyes, the black pupils of the eyes were thinning, and the once light emerald color Cor could read like an open book was _roaring_ with the underlying magic. Making darker emerald and more golden tones flicker and shift in the light.

 

He suddenly remembers how it's only him and Clarus are the only ones at court who had seen those colors in the King's eyes and lived to understand what they meant. Weskham and Cid had as well, but they weren't here to calm him down like Aulea could. The old Kings and their magic were no longer going to passively wait for fate to unfold itself. It meant that Regis was beyond the point of reason and they were going to relearn why the Niflheim empire as a man like Regis would go to war.

 

Even good men had something to protect, and Noctis - _bleeding, too limp to not be asleep, and wounded in a room full of guards Noctis-_ was something a fair king like Regis would protect fiercely and would level cities for without remorse. Many seemed to forget how dangerous the line of Lucis could be when they weren't actively flaunting their power from the covenants with the gods and bloodline of magic and divine paranoia.

 

He sees Regis open his mouth, but what he hears is another thing entirely.

 

"Cor, carry him to the infirmary. I'll ensure an escort."

 

That was not a request from a friend. _That was a command from a king on the warpath._

 

Regis commanded for Clarus's children to come back to the dais and escort Cor, and some Glaives had also stepped forwards when he had called them to join the escort.

 

He relinquished his katana back to the arsenal, he had a more important job to do today, and needed to be as unhindered as possible. He carefully maneuvers the young man ( _still a child, he thinks_ ) into his arms and almost feels relieved that there aren't new patches of wetness meeting his touch. Most of the bleeding must have stopped, so now the priority included getting Noctis to safely.

 

He sees Gladiolus and Iris step forward and he stands up with the weight of Noctis, but nearly causes the them both to tumble backwards as he had overestimated the Prince's weight. Noctis was nothing like his father here; almost weighing nothing in his grasp and Cor is afraid of the Prince fading away in his arms right then if he made another move like that.

 

He was too light to be normal; and if the amount of blood he had lost was anything to go by, _Noctis could die in the arms of the man who had quite literally guarded his cradle._

 

(It was another reason he didn't like the name they had attached to him; Immortals had a painful habit of outliving those they cared about.)

 

Noctis wasn't Regis, but _damn_ if his heart didn't jump out of his chest when Noctis's head lolled back, arching his neck at what seemed to certainly be an uncomfortable angle, his Adam’s apple nearly looking ready to break free past the translucent skin. Gladiolus also saw his discomfort and maneuvered his head to rest on his shoulder, the weight almost nothing on his shoulder.

 

He sees Iris pull out her phone to call Ignis, telling him to prep the infirmary for surgery and for the doctors to be on standby, only telling in the curtest details of what just happened. Gladiolus looks like he was caught between trying to stay and punish the men, and ensure that the Prince would make it to the infirmary safe.

 

He leaves the initial shock out of his mind and carefully readjusts his grip (something that happens too easily, Regis was heavier at this age, and even _he_ was practically bird-bones and skin.)

 

He looks over at Regis once more, and observes how the branching horn of the King's Crown reflected sharper in the shadows playing on his face from the sudden crustal magic in the air.  He gives Cor one look, and he understands that it would be in his best interests to leave soon, for everyone's sakes.

 

He looks over to Clarus, who seems already resigned to see the men being pinned down by the Crownsguard face the King's wrath today.

 

As they stepped out of the council entrance. Cor hears and feels the tension in the air when Regis calls for the men to be brought forth because he hasn't heard such rage in the calm voice in _years_ , Gladiolus and Iris looked mildly terrified, and he caught the unease of the Glaives as the silence of the hall outside of the chambers met them.

 

Clarus was the only one at this point who could calm him down after this. Aulea could have done it by simply touching his hand, Noctis could likely do it too, but the last time Regis had gotten this angry after his son's birth was because a demon had left him in a coma and none of them were there to stop it, leaving him to be lost in a coma for months on end.

 

But this was different. Noctis wasn't attacked, he was hurt because he had _stopped his father from being attacked._

 

Something seemed to click in him now, something along _why_ Clarus looked cold and why the King seemed filled with this new inferno. It was because _Noctis_ had been the one to throw up the barrier- he had warped there and stood between Regis and death.

 

Cor suddenly is relieved to be outside of the room and entrusted to the life in his arms, not daring to run but still considering it.

Noctis had succeeded in protecting their king and his father, but Cor, Clarus _\- the entire Crownsguard_ \- had failed their one job in keeping the both of them safe.

 

Noctis is weakly panting in his arms, fighting and struggling to breathe like the fighter Cor had taught him to be

 

_Focus Cor, you can't fail again._

 

He thinks about the possibility of other assassins lurking in the halls; usually big attacks like those didn’t go without some sort of backup and it seems that the Glaives are already on it. Glaive Ulric was already scouting ahead, the braids whipping around his face as he and Iris checked passing hallways as Gladiolus and Glaive Altius flanked behind them, with two others (Khara and Ostium, if he remembers right) directly flanking in front of him, but still unhampering his path.

 

The small body in his arms is taking distressed and staccato breaths, the darkened front of his raiment was a sight that should have stayed in his nightmares. His closed eyes were shadowed by his hair and his skin was so pale Cor could easily map the web of veins arching from his cheekbone to his temple up. His lips were parted and nearly the same color of his pallor skin, too gray to be ignored.

 

He doesn't know what would become of them if he fails the line of Lucis a second time 

 

In the back of his mind, Cor is already running through other contingencies to avoid this, trying to think through the security measured he had planned for tonight and scour for where he went wrong.

 

_How did it go so wrong?_

 

What snaps him out of his mind isn't Noctis, nor the infirmary, but the sound of assassins in the halls, and the Glaives intercepting them.

 

Had he not been bearing such precious cargo, Cor would have summoned his katana and torn through them all without a second thought, but he feels Noctis shift in his arms and thinks the better of it.

 

The infirmary was so close, he could see it.

 

He couldn't fail now.

 

Not now.

 

Cor isn't an emotional man, but he's _praying_ now because he's so scared of the idea that this boy, the one he saw grow up from a newborn child, the one's who's cradle he guarded and taught how to first hold a sword, might see a coffin before a Crown.

 

Being scared wasn't new for Cor, but when his arms are trembling and his hands meet a damp patch of blood blossom onto his hands, he finds that this new level of panic and horror doesn’t leave him until long after he's passed the Prince off to the surgeons. It doesn’t fully leave him until Crownsguard are swarming the infirmary, the Prince in in the safest part of the castle, and he's steps into his room to shower and change, after his heart lurched at the sight of and ungodly amount of blood down his front and he's thrown the stained clothes into the trash, throwing himself in the shower and failing to wash off the shame and guilt off his shoulders.

 

He's resigned himself to having nightmares for the next few days, but if he's too busy for that time, maybe he'll get to forget about that.

 

All Cor can do now is throw himself into working out how this could have happened and what to do now, and try to forget how cold a body could grow in the arms of his protector.

 

\---

_Regis didn't know what was happening until Noctis was standing in front of him and a small barrier was protecting them both._

 

_From what, he wondered, took only a moment to understand._

 

_The drumrolling sound of bullets hitting the barrier wasn't something Regis wanted to hear so close to his child._

 

_Then it clicks. Noctis was protecting him. He must have seen the guns being pulled out before anyone else did, and warped in front to keep him safe._

 

_Regis wondered if this was the moment that he, as Noctis's father and protector, had finally become the protected._

_His musings came to a stop when he saw the circular holes in the back of Noctis's suit jacket and bullets ricocheting off the lining of the throne he had been sitting on, wasting no time as he shot out to catch Noctis's body, who was swaying and staggering as his feet tried to keep him upright. It was easy to catch his son and face him, using the Ring of the Lucii to uphold the barrier as he heard the shouts of the Crownsguard-_

 

_-But what was hard was seeing the dark stains that were spreading across the front of Noctis's shirt and the distinct feeling of his stomach dropping. Seeing his boy bleeding on the ground with a dulling light in his eyes wasn't a new sight, the familiarity left a chill in his veins that almost made him expect the Glacian herself to be in presence here._

 

_He kneeled to lay his child on the ground, there had to be something he could do to stem the bleeding._

 

_"Noct! Noctis, stay with me!" He was desperate, he couldn't lose his child now. Not after they had suffered through so much together. Noctis was the only family that he had left now, his heir and most of all: the product of his and Aulea's love._

 

_He couldn't lose his child, not when so much had been done to avoid this._

 

_He eased himself to kneel on the floor, the brace on his knee collided with the floor with a clang as he pulled the too-thin torso across it. Eyes, once filled with a child-like brightness, were half closed and dimmed._

 

_"Dad. You're hurt." Regis's heartstrings felt a violent tug in his chest. Even when he was bleeding out for standing between him and the bullets of the assassins, Noctis was worried for him and his safety._

 

_"No, Noctis." Regis looked over himself, almost afraid to take his eyes away from his child._

_"This is your blood. You're the one that's hurt."_

 

_He was afraid to look away from his child's eyes right now. He was afraid to look down for more than a half-second to return his gaze and meet a blank stare of one who had passed on into the afterlife. He called on the magic of the old Kings, and asked for an old magic that was lost to them by time._

 

_"You're going to be fine, Noctis. Don't you worry. Dad is here, he's gonna keep you safe." Before he'd even start speaking, he cradled his child's head heavily into the crook of his elbow and felt the weight of the ring as he called for soul-bonding with an ancient King of Healing. So long as the bullets didn't have Starscourge in them, there was a chance he could help mend the worst of the damage._

 

_He ignored the shaking in his hands and began pulling the magic from the ring._

 

_When Noctis was a child, they Crystal and his ancestor's souls within sung when he had been identified as the Chosen King of Light, and Regis's own heart broke at the revelation of what he couldn't shield his child from. When he was eight, Regis was helpless when the demon placed a Starscourge in his body. He was helpless when the Crownsguard pulled the tiny body from his clutches and entrusted the life of his precious child in the hands of another. Sylvia, for all her wisdom and training as Oracle, also seemed lost as to what to do, feeling as helpless as he had. All he could do then was wait by his son's bedside, agonize over what he could have done differently, and scour the lands for a sign or a means to get his son back to him._

 

_Now, even when he was an adult man, Regis could only still see Noctis as the same precious child, the only thing he had left of Aulea, suffering in silence once more. By the Six, even bloody and fading into unconsciousness, he still saw distinct parts of her in their child. He knew that those heartbreaking eyes - now fighting to stay open- were practically a mirror image of when she was on her own deathbed. Her h-_

 

_"Dad?" The voice was raspy and hoarse, but more than enough to anchor him from a downwards spiral._

 

_"You're going to be just fine, my son" Regis's hands weren't shaking as they tried to hold his child closer as he tried to channel more magic to the wounds._ They weren't.

 

_Regis was feeling numb with adrenaline and fear. This had to be a nightmare, a sick, convoluted nightmare in which he would wake up in a cold sweat and later forget that this ever happened. But the weight of a bleeding torso over his kneeling lap and the drain of the magic was too real to be a nightmare. The overwhelming sound of his heartbeat in his ears was drowned out by his softspoken child._

 

_"I'm sorry that I wasn't as good of a son as you'd like."_

 

And oh, if Regis's heart didn't break at that statement. 

 

_He wanted to chalk it up as hysteria under being wounded and bleeding out, or under the fantasy that he was in a nightmare still, but he knew better when he felt the splintering sensation in his chest. Noctis had always been pushing himself best as a prince and do him proud, even when he could tell that Noctis thought he had been undeserving of his title. Regis knew the anxiety of not reaching the towering expectations that the mantle of royalty placed on him when he was so young. He had been in the same precarious position once upon a time; where nothing he had done was good enough in his father's eyes and his only refuge was found in the arms of his Aulea._

 

_Noctis still thought, even as the sole heir to the Crown, that his life was expendable when his father's wasn't, and here he was, wounded and dying of the likes he never had wanted to see. This was his one and only child, so carefully cradled in his arms as the one he swore to protect when he first came into this world. He didn't deserve such a blessing of a child, but had received one nonetheless. But now his heart was a crumpled mess in his lap, struggling to stay conscious in his arms as his eyelids were fighting to keep their light._

 

_'Noctis,' He thought with a desperation he hadn't heard in his internal voice in years, 'don't ever say that. I need you to stay with me now. Come on, stay with me. You've been nothing but my pride and joy since the day Aulea told me about you. You're the light of my life and nothing's ever going to change that.'_

 

Oh, if she was watching them both now, how she would have wept.

 

_Noctis's shining eyes were dulling now as he fought to keep them open. Regis felt his blood run colder, finding the slowing pulse with one hand and trying to heal the wounds with another._

 

_Suddenly, Cor was there, crushing a hi-potion into Noctis's hand and letting it do some of the work. His magic could feel the potion's meeting with his own and crest their abilities in the mutilated chest, where the worst of the damage had been done._

 

This wasn't supposed to happen. Noctis should have been _safe_.

 

_"Cor, carry him to the infirmary, I'll ensure an escort."_

 

_He could trust Cor. Part of him wanted Clarus to join him and ensure that the younger Caelum was given the priority ~~like the kind that he had always deserved.~~_

 

_The Marshall only nodded, solemn and angry that his had happened to the child whose crib the Immortal had guarded._

 

_But he knew that argument Clarus would give would only be a waste of precious time that no one had, and that the stubborn mule of his friend would not leave his place at his side. He does the next best thing and decides for Clarus's children and for some Glaives that had been surrounding them in a protective circle to do their job escort Cor and his charge to the infirmary._

 

_But if they really had done their job, a small voice reasoned in the back of his mind, Noctis wouldn't have been placed at death's door like he was now._

 

_He barely remembers calling for Clarus to get his children over here, or for the Glaives to follow Cor, but he knew that there would always be more assassins from wherever these came from. He had honestly no idea how coordinated or lethal any other assassins possibly lurking in the halls could be, but he rather be_ damned _than let another attack hurt his child._

 

_By now, the worst of the bleeding had stopped, but it barely made him feel any better as the limp form of his child was taken into the carry of Cor._

 

_The sense of déjà vu sent a wave of cold rage through his heart and mind._

 

_He looked down to the rest of the room and called for the attackers to be brought forth._

 

_Every heir was precious to the Crystal, the connections made of blood and inheritance made ran deeply through all of the rulers' veins and made magic crackle in the air around Regis. Noctis was no exception. His prophecy made the past rulers exuberant that he had finally come to fulfill the role that they had died for._

 

_Noctis was supposed to be the one that Regis would die for, as so many of the old Rulers had happily done, not the other way around. Noctis was the long-awaited king that could end the Scourge that had been released upon humanity, and the old kings, Regis included, would rather set Eos on fire than let any harm come to him._

 

_But it had, regardless, and now he was fighting for his life before he could even fully reach the apex of adulthood, and the voices old Kings and Queens in the Crystal and the Ring had joined together in an uncontrollable ire, because_ how dare they _try to make their sacrifices go in vain, and_ how dare they _spill the blood of one had had never even wished harm on anyone in his life._

 

_Under his skin, Regis felt the singing chorus of his predecessors' voices. Some were calling for their death, others for them to be thrown into the crystal for them to punish and torture, but they all became a crashing wave of voices as they called for those arrogant enough to try and hurt their heir to suffer the pain of a thousand suns._

 

_With a shaky exhale, he placed his left hand before him, the ring began glittering with an anger that an inanimate item wasn't supposed to have._

 

_Who was he to deny the wills of his ancestors?_

 

_He summoned the Armiger in powerful blazes of rage. The chorus in the inherited magic simply sang with an eagerness for drawing blood._

 

_"I hope you choose your next words carefully now, or I might just let the Old Rulers smite you down right now."_

 

_There were very few things that the old rulers could agree on, but it seemed that punishing Noctis's attackers was one of them. Enflaming their anger was the fact the Noctis was an innocent, promised life that they had all carefully watched grow up through Regis's eyes. Watching every heir of the Caelum line grow up would strengthen the soul-bonding to the old rulers, and the pain Noctis had suffered in his young life had endeared him to them already. Noctis was their son as much as he was Regis's, making their war cries something the King already knew the words to._

 

_They would suffer. Suffer more than he had ever wanted to make someone feel._

 

_Because they had hurt his boy._

 

_But first, he wanted answers._

 

_The statues at the entrance to the audience hall moved once more by a wordless command, stepping over the last of the nobles and their steps akin to ominous strikes on the drum of final judgement._

 

_Each item in the inherited Armiger wanted a taste of the blood of these men kneeling on the dias below the throne. Some of the more violent Ancestors were whispering wicked ideas into his ears that could have been so easily justified in his fury. It did not help in the slightest that he still felt the wet sensation of drying blood on his front and hands. But he had better things to do than just eschew violence and make him look like some tyrant king._

 

_His voice was intoned with the harmonics of the Old Kings, a violent canticle from voices that left this world in older times, ancient well beyond the confines of the current King's aging body._

 

_"My first question: Who sent you?"_

 

_And it was with that question that an interrogation had begun that would stain the marble on the dais; and a protective, more violent part that Regis had thought he had formally banished came revived._


	3. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis finds a respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " My son  
> When you smile, I fall apart  
> And I thought I was so smart  
> My father wasn’t around (my father wasn’t around)  
> I swear that  
> I’ll be around for you  
> I’ll do whatever it takes  
> I’ll make a million mistakes  
> I’ll make the world safe and sound for you"
> 
> -"Dear Theodosia" from Lin Manuel Miranda's Hamilton,

Regis had no aspect of how much time had passed as he summoned a flame to burn the blood off of his bare hands.

 

When Regis had finished, he had looked over to finally acknowledge the chaos that had been made, but felt no remorse. What was left of the men had been promptly removed and placed into the cells under the crystal chamber, Regis had no fear of them trying to escape or trying to abuse the crystal with the shape that they were in. With the return of his swords back into his armiger, he turned and walked away, not envious in the least of the poor soul who was going to have to clean that up.

 

He had gotten the answers that he needed, but not the ones that he _wanted_. Yes, they were here to assassinate both him and Noctis, but they weren't going to try and explain _why_ or _who_ had hired them until he had upped everything up a notch. What he _wanted_ was to turn back time and avoid all this, but now, all he could do is send them back to the Empire as a warning that last ditch efforts like these weren't going to help them turn the tide in this war.

 

He stalked over to Clarus, stony-faced and speaking into his phone as Regis approached.

 

"Where is he?" He couldn't recognize his own voice when it wasn't filled with the malice he had familiarized himself with today, barely able to get his question across from underneath his tired tone. They had exited the chamber and were now making their way to the Royal clinic, taking the same exit that he remembered Cor take. He still couldn't shake the divine rage in his veins; but a part of him didn't want to.

 

_'Just in case there's another threat today.'_ He told himself.

 

"He's doing fine, he got out of surgery a few hours ago. Your magic saved him today, the healers already see signs of the Crystal reaching out to speed up his recovery." By the time the shield had finished reporting, they were halfway down the hallway, the heels of their shoes clicking against the tile hurriedly as if time was still of the essence.

 

_Noctis. He's been so close to losing him today._

 

The implications of it truly hadn't set in yet; Regis still running high from the endorphins of his magic and the adrenaline from his warpath. He barely was able to register the looks that met him as he and Clarus moved through the castle. Unhindered as many seemed to literally _jump_ out of their way more than usual.

 

Otherwise, the march to the infirmary was filled with the kind of familiarity Regis had wanted to forget eagerly. It was the kind that he wanted to leave back into the past where it belonged. He just only hopes that no more trips will have to be made aside from this one.

 

Regardless, Regis was _still_ on the warpath; waiting for an enemy to jump out behind a pillar, waiting for a knife to catch the light, or for someone else to try and step in his path.

 

"Where there any complications getting Noctis to the infirmary?"

 

"Yes, another group of assassins were waiting for them on the way to the infirmary. Cor believes that they were some sort of backup squadron, but they were quickly dealt with by the Glaives. They're waiting with the full guard Gladiolus established outside of his room. Cor insisted that some Crownsguard be stationed in the surgery room as an extra precautionary measure until he was ready to be moved. "

 

Regis was feeling that rage again, and pushed it down from reaching his voice as the images of how that played down ran through him mind. No one should feel so unsafe in their home, especially _his child_.

 

"Make sure any new assailants captured are places next to the ones I interrogated." A scare tactic, yes, but it always seemed to be one that worked. Showing them what would happen if they didn't give him everything he ever wanted to know would likely leave them in more… amenable behaviors.

 

"How could this have happened Clarus? I thought the security measures were supposed to help us avoid this." If Regis wasn't so concerned for his child, he would have been busy ripping the Crownsguard apart for such carelessness, and ~~possibly~~ especially some of the Kingsglaive. Noctis wasn't the only one in that room who could warp or use barrier magic.

 

"Cor and Ignis are already looking over the security measures in place today, trying to figure out what went wrong. Drautos has at least a third of the Guard questioning the rest of the guests, the rest are sweeping the castle for any more of them."

 

"Nothing would have went wrong if they had done their job. I want to know _who_ and _how_ by the end of today. " Regis was in total denial of his seething, but Clarus understood and said nothing. Regardless, Noctis shouldn't have done the work of the Crownsguard _for them_ , they were supposed to be jumping in the line of fire _for him_.

 

By the time they had reached the infirmary, Regis had seen only two full squadron's worth of Crownsguard mixed with half of the Kingsglaive, and wondered where they had been earlier. He knew that they were probably afraid of standing in the King's way when his son was a patient in the room ahead, but something about the expressions of sheer _unbridled fear and awe_ that many of the people he passed; he considers that maybe it was the scowl on his face, or how he still had Noctis's blood dried down the front of his raiment.

 

As they approached the door to the room where Noctis had been moved to, Regis came up to see the Glaives who had left the audience chamber with Cor snap to attention, noting that the dark spots on their fronts wasn't from wine being spilled on them.

 

"Report."  Regis nearly glowered at what could have happened had they not been there.

 

"Your Majesty, there was one more group of assassins that tried to hinder our way to the infirmary, five men in total. Their clothes and weapons mark them as accomplices to the ones that attacked the audience chamber. We have them in custody now and Captain Drautos has enlisted most of the Glaive to sweep the castle for any more of the attackers." The mage- Altius, wasn't it?- seemed worn and distressed, much like the rest of them.

 

He remembers her name- not only because he had taken her in as a half-starved orphan who had as much natural knack for magic as he did- but because of all the stories Noctis told about her ingenuity and talent made her one of his best.

 

"Any _other_ complications with getting him into surgery?"

 

"No Sir."

 

"Good, I'm glad to see he has good friends amongst the glaives." He gives a sweeping look to the four of them, and notices how he's seen each of them at least once or twice with Noctis around the castle, and finds the determination in their worn faces only mildly comforting.

 

"I want all of you to take a few hours for yourselves after we've found the rest of these intruders; go home, change your uniforms, and be ready to guard him until further notice.  Clarus, go join them in the search; you've seen all of the usual hiding spots that we've found assassins in."

 

"Your Maj-"

 

"Clarus, I'm not going to be leaving Noctis's side tonight and I won't be taking no for an answer. I don't think that there is any safer place for the both of us right now. The faster the castle is safe for us, the faster we can move Noctis to his own room and move around safely."

 

He could see the wheels turning in Clarus's mind sifting through probability, chances, and past experience before he gave a slight bow and departed, leaving Regis to face the protected doors that give way to him as he enters.

 

\--

 

The one who first greets him is the healer, a middle aged woman who took no nonsense and didn't care about who did what so long as it didn’t hinder her work. Regis almost immediately took a shine to her as his first impression included shooing off Gladiolus and Iris to go and wait outside when they saw him enter.

 

"Go home and get some rest children. No doubt your father would tell you to do the same thing. I'll stay with Noctis."

 

Iris still looks hurt and Gladiolus lets the grim expression stay on his face as he gently ushers her out of the room, the door closing quietly behind them.

 

Regis is almost hesitant to look to the healer and get his answers, but he finds himself comparatively _terrified_ to look over at the bed just yet.

 

"How is he?"

 

He knew that if he looked over to the occupant of the bed now, he would surely lose his composure. No one should see their King cry like he had already resigned himself to do if he dared to look anywhere but the healer's face at the moment.

 

Kings were supposed to be composed at all times; he could be warm to his subjects, he could be cold and calculating at meetings, _but not emotional._ Even if he saw his heart unconscious and wounded on the bed, he would not, and should not weep for whatever reason.

 

"He should be waking up soon, your Majesty. We had no complications in surgery or moving him here. Despite the extent of his injuries, we can expect a full recovery of his injuries in due time with no permanent damage."

 

He didn't care how loud his sigh of relief had been.

 

"These are trying times, and I apologize if my next request may impede on your work. But I'm not here today a King, but rather as his father. I hope you understand if I can ask for some privacy with my son."

 

He could tell by the healer's expression that she understood before she politely excused herself, closing the door behind her almost inaudibly, leaving Regis to stand under the weight of what he could have lost today.

 

He looked over to his son, and sat at his bedside, nearly finding his hands shaking again as he reached for his son's hand once more.

 

The dark tones of the Lucian comforter did nothing but make him look unhealthily pale as he rested against the pillow. His dark hair was fanned out against it; doing nothing but reminding Regis of the other dark-haired, pale-skinned love of his life Noctis had inherited such heart wrenching beauty from. The covers had been pulled down under his bare shoulders to allow his arms to be free of the comforter and for Regis to take one of the limp hands in his own as he sat heavily on the edge of the bed. His eyes followed the lines of the heavy bandaging peaking above the comforter down to the hand he held grasped in between his two older ones, marveling at how they contrast to his.

 

The revelation is hitting him now, in full force.

 

_He could have lost Noctis today. They all had been so close to having tears of mourning instead of relief._

 

Regis let out a shuddering breath as he scooted closer on the bed, bringing the back of the pale hand to his lips and forehead and almost curling into it, and just _sits there_ in the silence only broken by raspy breaths. His mind is blank for a blessed moment, taking the time to catch his balance and let the emotions take their time to run their course.

 

Damn the Kinghood, Regis was still a _father_.

 

The first thing he registers is relief. Regis could have been left alone in this world, with no family to spend his free time with, not that he had that much to give to Noctis in the first place. But regardless, any of the moments they had shared together- not as King and heir- but as _father and son_ , were always the ones that he had cherished the most. His nose and lips may have been inherited from Regis's father, _but that smile_ was without a doubt from his mother and always gave him something warm to feel when the days were cold and lonely. He knows that now he has a second chance with his child. To be there for him when he needs it, and to make that smile he inherited return to light his father's world like the sun did over their lands. And when Noctis would wake up, he would get to do everything in his power to see it come back again in its full glory, for both of their sakes.

 

He thinks to himself about how long it's been since he's last seen Noctis smile: the answer leaves him leaves him staggering.

 

The second emotion washing over him is frustration. Because as he had been busy listening to the constant cacophony of the people's needs, he had been missing on Noctis grow up. The precious babe he once held in his arms was now an adult man, losing some of his mother's features in favor of some of his own. Part of Regis had wanted to know what gave him the _right_ to have become an adult like this when he wasn't looking. It wasn't fair that he had lost some of the joys that came with fatherhood because of his station. He had told himself as a teen that he'd be _nothing_ like his father, who had borderline deserted him because of his duties and left Regis on his own, leaving a gap between them that made him cherish what he and Noctis had. But this is where he finds himself, having to relearn his own child's face because it's been so long since he's had a good look at it. Aside from the tragedy of looking like his father _, he's acting like him too._ Regis's childhood had at least been softened by the presence of his mother and friend Aulea, but what about Noctis?

 

_How alone had his son been for all of this time?_

 

Sure, he had friends amongst the Glaive and his retainers. Aside from Luna (who was hundreds of miles away) and young Prompto, Noctis had next to no friends his own age, or connected to him outside of a sense of duty or fealty. He knew that many probably only saw him as the next in line for the throne, instead of the young man that so few had received the pleasure of knowing personally. He tried to let Noctis have some semblance of a normal childhood with going to a public school and living on his own; but even those attempts seemed to backfire on him. He knew of other students only seeing him for his status and his apartment complex being riddled with more Crownsguard than normal civilians.

 

Noctis could have been in a room filled to the brim, and still be isolated.  Regis didn't know what to do with that information.

 

What also wasn't fair was how _complacent and forgiving_ Noctis had become about it; he'd give a despondent looks when denied familial time because _another thing had come up, maybe next time my boy_ and Regis would always have some aide deliver the blow. Somehow, his boy would always try to understand that his father couldn't be there for him, say that it was ok, and it drove Regis mad. Noctis should have fought for his time like Regis had when he was his age, but like the pure-hearted child he was, he's let his father to care for the kingdom first before his own child.

 

Regis carefully lowers the hand he'd been clasping to his face and gently wipes away the wetness that had passively accumulated. Feeling more relief wash over him as Noctis stirred, he lowered the entwined hands further into his lap. He marveled at how similar in size they were now, when what felt like yesterday those were tiny fingers that couldn’t even reach around his pinky. He reaches with his other hand to brush the unruly bangs out of his face, still finding the glimpses of the child he had missed in the peaceful expression.

 

Regis smiles as Noctis stirs, more softly this time than the last as deep blue eyes flutter awake with a glacial pace, giving Regis more than enough time to draw his hand back and wipe off any stray tears with his sleeve and return his hand to rest on his child's shoulder (had it always been so thin?).

 

"Dad…?"

 

The next feeling that stirs in Regis is _love._ Love because this whole time his child had been left in the care of retainers and servants, he still had no animosity to his father. Prompto had told him once that Noctis was always pushing himself to please him, and Regis wanted nothing more than to tell the world that he was so proud of Noctis _just because he was his son._ He had seen Noctis be the warm child he had always been through coldly observant progress reports he had been reading lately more often than he had been seeing his son in person. He knew it was love, because at the end of the day, Noctis didn’t hate him, but rather pushed himself harder, as if he had to earn something that was already his birthright.

 

He had both his and Aulea's features because they loved each other, and he became quite literally the embodiment of that love. Regis right now wanted nothing more than to drop the crown of the king, and pick up the mantle of fatherhood he had long left to gather dust because those hazy eyes staring up at him had never changed when they looked at him with that unwavering adoration, even though he saw the confusion in them.  
 

"You're safe, my son. The men have been apprehended and dealt with. How are you feeling?"

 

"Dad… your chest." His child looked panicked in his dazed state and Regis didn't comprehend why until he followed the gaze down the his ruined dress shirt.

 

"It's not mine, Noctis. It must have happened when you were protecting me. This… it's _your blood."_

He hated the repetition of the statement, but he was able to put the metaphorical two and two together from earlier events.

 

_'So that's why everyone seemed afraid of me coming down the hallway.. Ha!'_

 

He chuffed a breath through his nose at the random thought. No doubt he gave everyone quite the heart attack, storming through the halls with blood on his clothes and look of fury he no doubt was wearing on his expression.

 

"Dad…? What's so funny?"

 

"I'll tell you all about it later, my boy. You still didn't answer my question; how are you feeling?" There was a softness of mirth in his eyes as both of his hands went back to clasping his son's.

 

The slight squeeze Noctis gave made Regis smile for a different reason.

 

"Weird."

 

"Well that's quite descriptive of you, son, care to tell me more?" The tone was playful, an odd change from how tired it had been earlier. He hoped that he could see him smile once more before he closed his eyes tonight, just one smile.

 

"Ever heard of this thing called 'the entire body'?" The pout the injured prince gave his father widened his smile at the light banter. Even his caustic replies seemed to be inherited from his better half. His eyes trailed from his wrist to the IV it was connected to, very likely for his 'weird' feeling was the strong painkiller that he had been mercifully given.

 

"You gave us all quite a scare today, jumping in the crossfire like that… Why?"

 

When he looked for an answer, he only saw confusion in the slight tilt of the head on the pillow.

"Would you have done the same for me?"

 

Regis felt a similar expression pushing his brow down, It doesn't even take a moment for him to reply.

 

"Of course I would, Noctis. Without a doubt."

 

"Then that's all there is to it."

 

And to Noctis, it seemed, that _was_ all of the reason that there needed to be. Regis could easily rattle off lists of Lucian heirs who had eagerly awaited for their predecessors' demises because of offenses insignificant in comparison what Regis considered his negligent parenting to be. Noctis always had to be the different one, didn’t he? Instead of resenting his father for not being there, he did not blame him. He huffed a breath out through his nose and moved again to place one of his hands on the crown of obsidian hair, the newfound swell in his chest matched the upturn of his lips as he felt weight shift under his hand when Noctis leaned into the touch.

 

"You have a heart of gold, Noctis. I don't know what would have happened had you not been there, and I don't know what I did to deserve such a blessing of a child, but the Six know that I'll always be so grateful to have you as my son." And Regis could have gone on for hours like that; giving his child all of the love and praise Noctis may not have thought he deserved, but stopped at the imploring expression he saw below him, a sapphire gaze that seemed to pierce through into his entire soul.

 

"You really mean that?"

 

Regis wasn't sure if his heart was breaking at the insecure statement, or opening to let the flood of warmth and love for his boy wash over him, removing the coldness that had set in earlier in his veins.

  
"I don't think that I could ever _not_ mean that Noctis. I know that I'm not around often enough to say it, but I hope that you'll always know that."

 

He lets his hand slip behind the head in his hand, and the other one on his boy's hand reaching out to pull Noctis into his arms now, dirty clothes be damned. He doesn't think about how cool his skin feels to the touch, nor how long it's been since he's last hugged his only child. He only thinks about how Noctis leans into the touch slowly and surely, careful of the IV in his arm and also seeming to ignore the stain on Regis's raiment, and how his forehead still fits in the crook of his shoulder, back when Regis was able to carry a smaller and happier version of the Prince with him. The thinks about how weak hands return his father's gesture and how he smells a like a careful variation of the Crystal's magic and Regis's own, both taking deep breaths to relish the moment that they both seemed to have missed.

 

Eventually, Noctis drops his hands, and Regis takes the cue to carefully withdraw.

 

"Now, enough of the mushy stuff." His speech was still slurred by the grogginess and no doubt whatever the IV was giving him to ignore the pain as he eased up tensely into a sitting position. They took a moment to carefully maneuver the pillows and still left the injured Prince to heavily lean against the intricate Cherrywood headboard.

 

"How much of the castle has fallen apart since I decided to take a nap?" He was almost a child again, body propped upright, defiant to sleep, all while waiting for his father to tell him a story, nostalgic to simpler times.

 

Regis's smile couldn't even try hiding from his voice.

 

"Oh, son. _Everything_ is in ruins, the tea has gone cold, I've lost my cane in this mess, Drautos is showing emotion, and worst of all is that Gladiolus actually looked concerned for your safety."

 

His eyes ignore the expansive bandages cocooning the now bared chest, and decides to focus on how they try to avoid shaking in laughter.

 

"Whew, you laid it on thick, dad. Is that what happens whenever you take a nap as king?" Noctis's smile was utterly contagious as he too tried to hide it, but Regis couldn't help returning the gesture.

 

"And I advise you to expect nothing less, my son."

 

"Oh no…" The scathing sarcasm didn't escape Regis. They dissolved into a set of breathy laughs before Regis had to pull out his vibrating phone, answering it with a seriousness previously absent as he placed it on speakerphone.

 

"Cor?"

 

_"Ignis and I just finished going over how this could have happened. You'll have the report on your desk by morning. How's Noctis?"_

 

Regis looks over to see his son's mischievously smiling (finally, something that had been inherited from _him_ ) and making a cutting motion with his flattened hand across his neck.

 

Regis decides to play along, and sighs heavily into the phone for a dramatic flair.

"I don't know at this point, Cor. He looks like death itself. We nearly lost him today, but the healers told me that he had no permanent damage." He's playfully and (carefully) pushing at his son's arm now, _and the Prince is terrible_ fighting to keep his laughter inaudible, becoming little wheezes in the background.

 

"When was the last time he _ate_ properly?" He gives an admonishing look and Noct has the decency to at least _look_ sheepish.

 

_"Your Majesty, I can explain-"_ Ignis sounded harried and guilty, as if it had been his fault Noctis was wounded right now. No doubt feeling guilt for what his child had dared to do, when Ignis also thought that he should have taken the bullet for the Prince.

 

_'He and so many others were likely thinking the same thing. There goes Noctis's appearance of being self-serving.'_

Regis knew that many may have assumed his boy to be nothing more than a spoilt child; but Regis knew with the media circus that no doubt will be raining on them tomorrow, that many such opinions would change, and that they would see his boy as the noble and self-sacrificing man he had always been proud of.

 

"Mr. Scientia, forget the question. Right now I want those reports taken care of before I assign you to question some of the other intruders that were found lurking in the hallways. See what answers you can get out of them. Have Cor bring me a spare set of clothes too, and my cane. I'm sure that I left it in the throne room somewhere, he can hand me the report then."

 

_"Of course, your Majesty."_

 

"I'll see you both later then." Regis chose to end the call there, feeling an oddly-placed smile matching an equally oddly-placed lightness to the knot in his chest. He looked back to see his son slumping to the side in his weariness, head lolling slightly to the side and a light smile on his face. The crystal must have been tiring him as it was healing him, and it's been thankfully a long time since he had felt the drain of the crystal in such a way. His heart softened at how _tired_ became _sleepy_ and how Noctis nearly slid back into laying on top of the pillow arrangement as consciousness was leaving him by gentler means, seeing his boy's eyelashes flutter as he fought to stay awake.

 

"Do you wish to rest, Noctis?"  
"No." The lines on his face had softened. "I wanna stay with you."

 

Ah, _there_ was the Noctis he had missed; adorably defiant to staying awake and childishly fighting against the idea of giving his father permission to leave just because he wasn't fully conscious.

 

"Alright then, my boy, you've asked for it. Now move over," Regis is now walking around to sit onto the other side of the expansive bed's soft mattress, only stopping to unclasp his cape and raiment jacket and drape them over an armchair. The bed gave way to his weight in such a heavenly fashion, Regis found the name of the Crown City so ironic when all he wanted to do was _sleep_ right now, finally in safety and in the presence of family. He toed off his shoes and leaned back on the bed, careless if he was on the comforter or not.

 

He casually crossed his ankles and held his phone's screen to his face, checking through messages and emails for any critical developments that couldn't wait.

 

"I told Clarus about not moving anywhere until you were, but I didn’t tell him that I'd also be getting a nap out of this."

 

"So, I'm just an excuse for a nap then?"

 

"Why else would I have a child, hmm?" Regis quirked an eyebrow and an amused half-grin as he looked over, carefully adjusting his son to slide down a bit so there wouldn't be a crick in his neck from sleeping like that.

 

His shirt underneath wasn't as dirty as he had thought, so a short nap in it couldn't be _so_ terrible.

 

He placed the phone on full volume and dropped it onto his bedside, reassured tonight's events having a better ending than what he had feared as sleep overtook them.

 

 

 

 

(Regis wakes up later more rested than he's felt in _years_. He looks over to still find his son asleep, his head using the King's sharp shoulder as if it was the comfiest pillow, his head lolled to face Regis and he almost decides against getting up, but knows that he must. He carefully dislodges the head that rested on his shoulder and changes into the clothes Cor left for him and looks at his son once more before he leaves. He fiddles with his phone for a second and loses his hand in obsidian locks and traced a face that was considerably younger in sleep.

 

"Good night, my little Prince."

 

He leaves quietly then, nods in passing the Glaives at the door and returns to his own room, where the swell in his heart makes the empty bed feel a little warmer, and opts to read the report when he isn’t full of reassurances against what he had thought to be his failed parenthood.)

 

\--

 

 

(It takes a while for Cor to find King Regis's cane, and only a second to understand why it was so hard to find. Everything below the handle was utterly covered in blood and _things he doesn’t even want to try and describe_ , had been thrown into a shadow beside the steps between scorch and ice marks on the floor and the lightning figures on the pillars beside it. He's a little concerned to be seen carrying this thing through the halls, but nevertheless it still takes the good part of an hour to clean this intricate thing to look like it hadn't just been used as violently as he figures. Cor doesn't want to ask what happened after he had left with Noctis, but from the look that came from Drautos after seeing the cane and inquiring about it, _Drautos_ also didn't seem to want to know the details of King Regis's interrogation. 

 

Cor doesn't miss the excessive courtesies bordering on terrified reverence when Regis had entered the room a few hours later. He and Clarus trade pointed looks to each other and nearly lose it at how Regis's ignorance of how Titus (and now half the Crownsguard) stands reverently three steps behind the king at nearly all times, nearly refusing to meet his eyes, and how the slightest drop in Regis's tone made the captain of the Kingsglaive nearly run for the hills at the sound of it. Weskham and Cid would have been in stitches laughing about this. But he still takes a picture for later, and sits on it for a rainy day. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I don't feel really happy with this chapter, but thank you guys so much for your love, it truly means so much to get your feelings and feedback.
> 
> Next time: Noctis


	4. A moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: Noctis and a merry band of Glaives!  
> Next chapter: the actual finale and the appearance of wild chocobros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for missing my intended deadline you guys. But it just ended up that the final chapter ended up being so large that I had no choice but to split it to keep some semblance of my usual schedule.
> 
> Please take this apology in the form of 4000 words of friendship  
> On a side note: If you’re a Hamilton fan, listen to Stay Alive (Reprise) and That would be Enough while re-reading if you want extra pain. :)

Noctis didn't even register falling asleep until he wakes up and finds himself in his room, tucked under the comforter and light streaming in from the windows as if he had fallen asleep there. But from the IV still implanted at the crook of his elbow and the odd numb sensation he ironically felt, he knew that wasn't the case.

 

He remembers last night ( _was it last night?_ ) in snippets and pieces of sound - being hurt, the chaos that happened as his father was over him, trying to get him to stay awake among other things.

 

He remembers being carried by Cor, who had been muttering a prayer to the old Kings to keep his dad(?) alive, the only voice he heard over the brisk sets of steps around him. He _wasn't walking_ , but rather, weightless as he floated down the familiar passages and corridors. He remembers more black spots hitting his vision and he isn’t sure if he had fallen asleep until later. He didn't know where they had ended up either until he woke up and recognized one of the private resting rooms adjoining the royal surgery room.

 

He remembers that The King had been there then, waiting for who-knows-how-long for him to wake up.

 

He wasn't sure about it back then, but his eyes seemed… _glassy._

 

Had there been something in his eyes? He normally didn't have eye problems… right? Noctis finds himself staring at the canopy bed's ceiling above him, eyes bared into the night sky constellations that were painted on the interior of the canopy and curtains, and tries to force himself to remember what he and his father had talked about.

 

He vaguely remembers what they talked about, the drugs he had been given were doing their job _amazingly_. He remembers his father being worried and holding his hand as if he'd been afraid for him.

 

He remembers a hug from his father and them laughing about… something- ugh, what was it? Tea? No- he had lost his cane…. Right? He's losing himself a little in his memories now, trying to rediscover the hazy memories (fever dreams?) and preserve them before they're completely lost when he hears a noise that’s familiar, yet far away.

 

"Ah, so you _can_ wake up."

 

It takes Noctis a moment to recognize the voice of someone who sounds as tired as he felt addressing him over the drowning number of his thoughts.

 

His neck still feels stiff, so tilting his head to his right to see his visitor takes a moment.

 

Who he sees is smiling and twirling the thick braids of his hair in his hands, His crooked nose crinkling slightly as he scoots closer on the chair moved next to the bed.

 

"Libertus?" He sounds barely coherent, matching how disoriented he feels accurately

 

"The one and only, kid. You damn near gave us all a heart attack back there," He cocked an upturned thumb over his shoulder, as if it could encompass all of the chaos of the past events. Noctis felt the edge of his mouth twitch at the tone that wasn't hiding his concern and passively watched as the Galahdian fiddled with the keyboard of his phone as the conversation continued regardless.

 

"What happened?... I don't really remember all that much." His head was swimming and numb at the same time, feeling more disoriented as he eased himself upright slightly, not missing the hawkish gaze watching for him to show any sign of discomfort.

 

"Well, to put it nicely, you did the Crownsguard's job for them. You jumped in front of your dad and threw up a barrier before the both of you got killed. You still took a few hits before the barrier was fully up." He saw the warrior gesture briefly to the bandaged (and otherwise bared) chest before sliding his gaze away to the floor, oddly looking… ashamed?

 

"What happened then? Is my dad okay? What happened to Cor? Was anyone else hurt?" He feels his eyes widening now, because that look could easily come from an earth-shattering fact, or something worse. Suddenly, there is a warm hand on his bare shoulder and Libertus looks a little panicked when Noctis sits up and winces at his own sudden motions.

 

"Hey, hey, Noct. Don't worry, you're the only one who got hurt that night, _I assure you._ Just…" Libertus is shaking his head now, the thick braids sliding past his shoulders.

 

"Just promise us that you won't do something that stupid again, okay?"

 

 _Oh. Libertus was… worried about him? That's new._ Noctis can't register his expression changing, and only concludes his head cocking to the side when his vision gets a little tilted.

 

"What, didn’t like that I did your job for you either?"

 

Laughter was a good coping mechanism for them now; better to laugh off what had happened instead of crying over what _could_ have happened. Libertus seems to have gotten the cue too, and meets his eyes when an interruption comes forward.

 

"Actually, we _were_ pretty useful in getting the gunmen and making sure you got to surgery safely." A new voice rung out then, and the both of them turned to see the new visitors in time to see Nyx and Crowe enter, dressed in their uniforms and closing the door as they strolled in.

 

Crowe reaches the bed first by taking long and hasty strides, and nearly knocks Libertus over as she takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and pulls him in into a surprisingly careful embrace given the speed she had been going at. He carefully returns the embrace as he inhales the scent of her magic and conditioner, an interesting mix of fruit and ozone as his forehead finds the line of her shoulder.

 

(Memories of his father's visit to him are coming back now with the sense of déjà vu, and an odd warmth is growing in his chest now.)

 

Crowe pulls back and Noctis can see the hurt creeping in the edges of her lips and eyes as they crawl up the bandages of his torso and meet his gaze. He feels the weight of the others' eyes on him but he's too slow to react when he finds the mage ripping her hand up in front of his face to flick the nail of her index finger against his forehead.

 

" _Don't you ever do that to us again, you idiot. Do you have any idea how scared we were?"_

 

Noctis tries to look over to Nyx, but he's also wearing the same expression, but at least is trying to hide his concern under a thin mask. Libertus isn’t even trying as he refuses to meet his gaze and pulls out his phone again, busying himself with unlocking the screensaver.

 

Noctis tries to meet the fire in Crowe's eyes, but honestly, he decides against it; he's already narrowly skidded past death _once_ recently, so he decides by staying quiet would help him avoid facing death a second time over.

  

"I know for a fact that I speak for everyone when I say that seeing you step in the line of fire like that scared the hell out of us. Noctis, we thought you were going to _die_ that night. Cor had to carry you to the infirmary and I swear to the Six you already looked dead in his arms." Tears were welling in her amber eyes now and Noctis was having realization dawn onto him.

 

 _Crowe was a mage_ , naturally more delicately attuned to the connections Crystal's magic than most of the other glaives, regardless that all of them were connected to it, but still ran through them all like water in a river current. The presence that he and his father had in the crystal served a conduit for the glaives, probably making his injuries scare them beyond belief.

 

"I felt the Crystal trying to heal you. _We all felt_ it, Noct. Don't ever do that again, or I swear that I’ll strap you down to this bed and make sure you don’t try to pull something like that on us again."

 

She probably felt the desperation in his blood when he warped in front of his dad, they probably felt the pain the bullets had caused him-

 

Crowe wasn't crying; her hands were trembling around his shoulders and her voice was like a leaf in the wind, _but no tears_ were falling down her face as fierce eyes bared all of her emotions into his.

 

" _Noct,_ we had no choice but to assume the worst until the meds wore off and we could feel you again with the crystal… We didn’t know what was gonna happen, I'm pretty sure that some of us were crying." She ended her statement with a self-deprecating smile and a pointed look at Libertus, who still refused to look their way.

 

The sheer idea of _Libertus_ being emotional nearly got him laughing in incredulous disbelief alone due to his knowledge of the emotionally stunted friend. The smile on his face seemed to get a positive change in her expression. She drew him into another hug this one more for comfort than concern, her forehead buried in his shoulder for a moment before she drew back, and joined in the amusement for the moment that it lasted. Standing up, she took a moment to walk back into his bathroom to compose herself, leaving the sound of an opening door change his line of sight.

 

He hadn't even seen Nyx move until he had opened the door and saw the entrance of a ridiculous soght. It was a walking bouquet – with legs and everything - or rather- _Pelna_ was walking in, but the flowers in the vase he was carrying were large enough to conceal his face. He set it down on the nightstand and pulled out a large flower from the center of the vase, taking the seat Crowe had been occupying to present it to his prince with a quixotic flourish.

 

"So, what did I miss?" Noctis takes the presented flower in a replied mock regality.

 

"Just about everything, kid. Everything." The statement seemed to carry more weight than it meant to.

 

"So, are those flowers for me, or are you just stopping by from robbing the royal florist?" Pelna's smile seemed more relaxed now that Noctis joked, ignoring the need to pull the comforter up higher to cover the bandaged chest when Pelna whistled, not even trying to avoid staring at his otherwise bare chest.

 

"Damn, they _did_ do a number on you, didn't they?"  There's a careful hand on his shoulder now, warm and textured by the fingerless glove the Glaive wore.

 

"I heard what she said. Crowe's right ya know; you ended up scaring the hell out of us, jumping in front of your dad like that."

 

There is a beat of comfortable silence; simply filled with the _relief_ that  they could talk lightly like this because he was going to be _okay_ and that was all that mattered now.

 

"You don't seem that angry." Which was true, Pelna just seemed more relaxed in his carefully lowered shoulders and relief in the crinkles around his eyes.  
 

"’Cause I know I'd have done the same thing if I saw them, and especially if it was you up there, kid." Noctis couldn't miss the determination under the coy tone. They watch Libertus and Nyx for a moment, both a little distracted by something that Pelna had passed onto them.

 

"-Looking back, there was a good hour where we couldn't sense your presence in the crystal and I'm pretty sure that was when you went under for surgery," Pelna leaned in closer to Noctis, a hand to the Prince's ear to keep the sound of his admission from travelling anywhere but from his ear.

 

"Don’t mention this, but you had no idea how panicked we all were, _especially_ those two idiots. You should have seen what messes they were when we lost contact with you. Damn near murdered a few guards and Luche when they started running their mouths on us." He points his index finger secretively at the Galahdians then, whose backs were still turned to them and otherwise unaware of their hushed voices.

 

"Well, what about you, Pelna?"

 

"Who do you think held them back? I know better. I mean, _you're a fighter_ Noct, there's no way a couple a' flying bits of metal were gonna keep you down long. I know you’ve handled worse" Noctis feels a weight around his outside shoulder prodding him forwards to his friend and realizes that it was Pelna pulling him in for a hug.

 

"But really, kid, don't pull that kinda _ashgal_ on us again. I don't know what would've happened had you _really_ gotten hurt."

 

"Like this isn't hurt?" Noctis is glad for the painkillers now, allowing him to tenderly gesture to his entire body as Pelna smiled on him and Libertus stepped over to present the item that they had been distracted by.

 

“You know what I mean. Just, try to give us a warning before you give us nightmare material, ok?” the normally smiling man takes the liberty of passing back the envelope from Libertus to Noctis, opening the envelope but passing it over for its recipient to handle its contents.

 

Noctis tentatively handled the envelope and felt the expectant looks placed onto him and he opened it, producing out a large ‘get well soon’ card (even decorated with a baby chocobo on the front) _filled to the brim_ with messages to good health, a fast recovery, and (in Axis's neat cursive script) "some damn sleep for once."

 

His eyes scanned over all the different messages, written in different colored pens ranging from short one-liners to little paragraphs, each tagged by its author and written with just as many unique ways of expressing wishes for him to get well soon. He was sure that the wonder didn't hide itself in his expression, judging by the mirthful expressions he saw out of the corner of his eye.

 

"Did the entire Kingsglaive try to write in this thing?"

 

"Yep. I didn't even have to hunt down anyone either." Nyx took the chair Libertus had pulled up at the edge of the bed, his knees inches from the edge of the mattress

  
"Even the captain?"  
 

" _Especially_ the captain. I'm pretty sure I even saw him pull rank to be first in line to write in this. You should've seen how terrified he is around your dad now." Pelna was hiding a snicker, but Crowe had returned and her grin seemed too wide for someone who had been fighting off tears earlier.

 

"What?"

 

The room burst into laughter of a joke that Noctis had no idea of.

 

"Well, what happened was, after you got hurt, your dad got _furious_. I mean, we see you all the time, and we know that you’d never hurt a fly unless it tried to talk smack about one of us, but your dad is a different story."

 

"I mean, I've seen him upset before, so you might need to elaborate on that." he wasn't convinced. He's seen his dad upset before, so what exactly was the big deal?

 

"Have we ever told you how _scary_ your dad is to us mere mortals on a normal basis? Well, it's like that, but a _million times worse._ You may not see His Majesty as anything but your father, but we see him as the source of all our magic… You got hurt protecting him, Noct, it made _us_ angry that you were hurt, I‘m not sure we’d even be able to begin to understand what was going through your father’s head. We weren't there for all of it, we were busy making sure you got out of there in one piece. We caught a little bit of it, and that alone is probably enough to give some people nightmares." Libertus was pulling up a chair to the bed now next to Nyx, both of their eyes careful to meet Noct’s when he was looking at him, and not get caught staring at the bandaged torso in front of them.

 

"Some people including half of the Crownsguard." Pelna commented

 

"You mean _all_ of the Crownsguard" Crowe corrected as she sat on the opposite edge of the bed, kicking off her boots as she scooted close to the Prince. The consistent closeness he was receiving from all of them seemed a little disorienting now that he was _seeing it_ instead of feeling it, but he saw the comfort that they were trying to glean form the warmth that was still on his skin and the pulsing of his blood underneath the surface and gave into it; returning the clasp that Crowe's hand had his in and placing his other hand on Nyx's at his shoulder.

 

"Because they should've done their job. If they had caught those guys trying to sneak in weapons, Noctis wouldn't have been hurt." Libertus had a scowl back on him and there was a beat of silence amongst them; even disoriented and on an ungodly amount of painkillers, Noctis had a suspicion of what was going on in their minds.

 

"You guys don't blame yourselves either… right?"

 

There’s another beat of silence, and it tells him more than a verbal response could.

 

"You know, you aren't the only one who can pull up a barrier and warp, right?" Nyx's eyes flittered to the bandages on his chest, as if his body was a vestige to the failure they no doubt were trying to blame themselves for.

 

"But I was the only one who saw the gunmen." He countered it with a sudden steel in his voice. He saw the path their minds were taking, and he was sure as hell that he was going to pull the breaks on _that_ idea.

 

"Guys, don't do this to yourselves. If Cor or Clarus couldn't see something like this happening, neither could any of you. I was just at the right place at the right time to see it." He knew that their training made them catch little things in their environments with the ease of wind in a spider's web, but no one had seen it- _Noctis_ had barely seen it either, halfway to thinking that he'd been hallucinating until his body had acted on its own accord and warped long before his mind could rationalize what he had even been seeing.

 

He feels a headache coming on despite the painkillers; if this was how the Glaive was dealing with this, he didn't even want to think about what was going through the minds of _the Crownsguard,_ whose job was directly linked to his safety (it was even in their _name_ ) _._

 

"How long was I out, anyways?" He's trying to change the topic, and a few of them check their phones simultaneously to try an answer him.

 

"A bit over a day since you got out of surgery, but we aren't your first visitors. Your dad called dibs for the first few hours after you got out, and told us to keep guarding you until otherwise. We've been switching off our shifts so we could visit."

 

Noctis shifted at Pelna's statement a little. His dad had visited? So, it _hadn't_ been some wishful dreaming that he'd fallen asleep while joking with his dad. His eyes fell further into the patterns of the comforter in his lap, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He hopes that more of the memories of his father’s visit would come to him soon, he wasn’t sure when the next time his father would visit him.

 

"Damn, it's getting late. We're gonna need to hurry up so we can get back before Drautos notices." Libertus bitterly shoves his phone into his pocket again and Crowe flops off the bed to redon her boots. Pelna sighs as they get up to leave, taking one last moment to stand at his bedside and ruffle his hair.

 

"We're glad you're okay, Noct. Just make sure your schedule's free for a couple of days, 'cause this isn't the last of us making royal visits." There’s a playful wink in his direction, and he can only smile in reply.

 

"Careful. I'll hold you to that." The newfound empty space around him seemed… less vacant now. Not as if he was lonely, but moreso just _alone_ because his friends had stopped by and were making mischievous promises _for more visits_ and soon _._

 

Visits like this were nice; they were leaving him with this elation in his chest and the warmth he didn’t even know he was missing begin to blossom in his chest.

 

Their smiles are slightly more content as they quietly exit, and Noctis looks over to Nyx, still in the chair by his bedside.

 

"Aren't you supposed to be going somewhere right now?" The rest of them were going back to guard duty, wasn't Nyx supposed to be doing the same thing?

 

"Trying to get rid of me, aren't you? Well, too bad. My shift doesn't start until later, so I thought we'd pass the time catching up on some shows until you fall asleep." He's pulling out a laptop as he speaks, shifting his chair to be side-by side with the bed until the loading screen is visible for the both of them, letting an obnoxious TV drama opening fill the comfortable silence.

 

"One more thing, Noct." The voice is amiable and Noct sees that his eyes haven't strayed from the laptop screen.

 

"Hm?"

 

"Next time, let me do the stupid stuff. I'm the hero around here."

 

He laughs. "Of course. Stupid _is_ kind of your specialty after all. I've learned my lesson: Don't do anything the hero of the Kingsglaive would consider as a good idea."

 

“Atta boy.” The ribbing gets him a rogue smirk as they fall into a comfortable silence, making offhand comments about the show as they blatantly ignored the reality of what could’ve been. An episode in, if Nyx slid off his boots and clambered onto the bed next to him, Noctis didn’t object, merely finding a new pillow to rest his head on and more warmth on the Glaive’s skin to remind him that he hadn’t failed yet.

 

(It was to remind him that he and Libertus didn’t need to mark slashes on their fealty marks or shave their heads to mark the shame of their failures to their lieges ( _and friend_ ). He knew that there would be a day where he would probably have to do it; cut off his braids and hair and must re-earn the right to wear braids like many of their elders had done in some point of their life, done through regaining the lost honor and valor. But he looked over to the half-awake form leaning heavily against him and remembered that this _wasn’t the day._

 

And he’d be damned if he ever lets something like this ever again happen on his watch.)

 

 --

 

It isn't long until Noctis feels the pull of sleep again, regardless of how hard he fights it, and Nyx waits a few minutes before closing out of the tab and carefully closes his laptop and slides it back into his bag. He does his best to leave the prince undisturbed, still holding the flower Pelna had given him from the bouquet earlier. The deep red of the Galahdian carnation slipped easily into Nyx's own hand as he took it from the sleeping figure.

 

The arcadian expression was something that he probably wasn't going to see for a while, so Nyx replaces the flower back and fiddles with his phone screen to snap a quick photo before sliding it back into his pocket. He takes the flower when he stealthily departs, smiling at the scent of the flower in his hand when he exits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arcadian - (adj.) Idyllically innocent and untroubled by fear or worry
> 
> Ashgal - trash, crap (persian)
> 
> On a side note: I totally have this headcanon of Galahdian warrior culture where if you are a warrior and you have a liege lord, you protect them at all costs, no matter the price. But Nyx and Libs are probs a little lost because they both consider Noct and Reggie to be their liege lords, so they probs feel conflicted that even though Reggie was safe, Noct (as friend and liege) was hurt in the process.  
> I feel that, based on their hair and braid designs that it is a huge part of their culture. I know with certain cultures (and many) that cutting your hair can be seen as a visual representation of that person being dishonorable or a disgrace in their culture. I also feel that since we only see so many tattoos on our lovely Galahdian characters, that if they disgraced themselves that those would also be marked in some way
> 
> Idk tho. Don't mind me
> 
> Come scream with me on tumblr: sorianis.tumblr.com 
> 
> Thank you, guys, so much for waiting! It means so much to get this much love on my fic.
> 
> Next chapter: the finale!


	5. Just you wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. This may be the end of this fic, but probs not of my 'Regis and Noct get family time' fics. 
> 
> This fic was very inspired form certain scenes of Kiefer Sutherland in Designated Survivor, and certain songs in Lin Manuel-Miranda's musical Hamilton 
> 
> Regis and Noct reserve all of the hugs and I will fight the six on this.
> 
> I start off with a quick flashback before it goes back to present time.  
> If you wanted a little more angst before reaching the end, I've got something for you. It was meant to be part of a longer and s u p e r angsty prologue, but maybe I'll expand on it if people like the idea of me torturing sweet Noct more.

_Noctis wasn't supposed to hear what he did a month before the Ball, but he had heard it nonetheless._

 

_It was at least a pair of nobles, jubilantly strolling through the Royal Gardens and gossiping in low tones. Otherwise, they were alone. The guards at this hour were carefully places to provide protection and privacy, but it also tended to provide Noctis some respite in his hectic daily schedule._

 

_Noctis was supposed to be studying (and he was, he'd later argue) but he was sitting on a bench with the tablet in his lap when he had heard them on the other side of the high hedge that separated him from the owners of the eloquent voices._

 

_"-I do hope that by the time the Prince ascends the throne, he's ready for it." he remembers freezing in place at the voice. Why were they talking about him like that?_

 

_"That might take years though."_

 

_"Hm, you're probably right. Don't you remember when Regis was younger? Ah, all charm and eloquence, always the smartest in the room." Yeah, Noctis had heard stories about his dad in his youth, but he wasn't his father, why was there always this comparison?_

 

_"I do," the other voice responded with a dreamy sigh._

 

 _"It's a shame that the Prince is nothing like his father. He's almost a disgrace in comparison, what with the way he dresses and lacks any of the etiquette, that I almost confused him for a commoner when I first met_ his Highness _."_

 

_The last two words were said with low and biting sarcasm before the strangers laughed and Noctis was paralyzed as they went on, rapt to every word they said, despite the antagonizing comments._

 

_"He doesn't even look anything like his father, either- it's such a shame too. I thought looking like royalty came in the bloodline." But he had two parents, he wanted to argue; did everyone forget about his mother?_

 

_"Maybe when he gets older, he's still a young man."_

_"Why do you think I hope we bask under the light of his Majesty's reign for many more years to come. Long live the King!" The last part was said jovially, and sarcastically remarked as their voices began to fade away_

 

_The strangers left, unware of their audience and by the time Noctis leans his head back and takes the longest shuddering inhale in his life, he swears that it didn't hurt hearing those things from people who never knew him._

 

_(but he's lying and he knows it)_

 

_He takes a minute to breathe, and prayed that no one saw or heard him for the next few moments as the harsh breathing continued and he carefully kept his face still as he internalized the distinct hold of his emotions. He had no idea how long it had taken him to come back to the present, but he takes another glance at the tablet in his lap, exits out his game of King's Knight and opens up his notes, carefully wiping the tear tracks on the edge of his sleeve and ignores the gaping feeling behind his sternum._

 

_From that day, he made a promise to himself._

_He didn't care if they liked him or not, but come hell or high water, he wasn't going to stop until he proved himself worthy of being their prince. He was going to keep working until he had shown them all that he was worthy_ and then some _; that he was worth not just being a Prince, but Prince_ and _as the son of his father._

 

_He would work until he could make them eat their words. They had seen nothing yet. There was a million things that he hadn't done yet, but just wait, he thought, just they wait._

 

 _Most of all, he promised himself that he would do better,_ and not stop _until he sees pride in his father's eyes, and not the disappointment he always feared was hiding in there._

 

 

_\--_

\--

\--

 

 

Noctis wakes in his room again, but this time he's aware of his visitor immediately off of the bat.

 

" _Hello there_ , sleeping beauty." It's Gladio in the chair that Nyx had been in. Had he left? How long had he been asleep? More questions fill his groggy state of consciousness before he's even fully up, so he simply blinks blearily until he can make cohesive noises that sound like sentences.

 

"What time is it?" He definitely sounds as tired as he feels, but at least they didn't get him off the painkillers.

 

"A little past noon. I just got here. But Iggy seems to have been waiting for a while." Gladio jerks his thumb over the reception portion of the royal chambers, where Noctis cranes his neck to envision the faint outline of Ignis Scientia sprawled out over the chaise lounge, glasses off, a blanket draped over him,  and promptly atraxian in his sleep.

 

"How long has he been like that?" He almost huffed through a small smile at seeing his advisor so unguarded for once. Just how long had he been there, waiting for him to take his sweet time in waking up? He feels guilty, as if the advisor's strenuous coping mechanisms were _his_ fault.

 

"Beats me. Do you think I should wake him up?"

 

"Nah, let him sleep. Knowing him, he probably needs it more than I do _." and I was the one who got shot._

 

Ignis had a tendency to overwork himself if he was stressed. To see him zonked out on the lounge like that was probably a symptom of his efficiently unhealthy work ethic, it was an ironic sight for the man who always encouraged healthy habits for the prince himself.

 

Gladio had to fight his bark of laughter from waking up the said advisor. 

 

"You're probably right; I'm pretty sure he's been tearing himself apart about what happened," Gladio's sigh seems to be too heavy for just an auditory exhale, and Noctis has a hunch that Ignis wasn't the only one who had been 'tearing himself up', if he were to use Gladio's own words against him.

 

"Noct-" He's stopped by Noctis's palm at eyelevel to his shield's face, a surprised expression ghosting over tanned skin.

 

"If you're going to apologize and somehow make my actions your fault, then I don't even wanna hear it."

 

"But-"

 

"I'm serious, Gladio. If you were in my place and you saw someone trying to do the same thing for your father, or Six forbid, _Iris_ , would you have done the same thing?" He waits for a beat to receive the silence he was expecting in response, because _he knows_ that Gladio would do what Noctis had without a doubt. For him to even try and say anything else would have him under treason charges for lying to the Crown.

 

"Exactly. Gladio. There's no use trying to berate me for something you or your father would've done." Even though it stemmed through a sense of duty, the Amicitias' sacrifices for the Royal line would always end up being for their friends, than rather as their Kings. But Noctis still wanted to protect his family, but even when he was doing the right thing he seemed to be making their shields look incompetent at their jobs. He feels bad about it, but not as much as he could have.

 

(He knows that Clarus would have done it- because it was his job to protect his dad. But he knows that the Shield didn't have barrier magic, but he also knows that Iris and Gladio now _still have a father_ , and the thought makes him unapologetic about keeping him from the duty of protecting his dad.)

 

Gladio seems to slump his shoulders then, giving into the fact that Noctis was not going to budge in the least.

 

"There's no point in trying to convince you, is there?"

 

"I'd like to think not." He can't help being a little smug for finally being able to outlast one of the stubbornest men he knew in a few short sentences.

 

"Well, I can at least be a bearer of good news. The healers aren't going to let you even think of sparring for a few weeks while Iggy gets to go full mother-hen mode on you." The relief in Gladio's voice is a little unsettling for a guy whose just been told his favorite punching bag is going to be on the receiving end of what is no doubt going to be _grueling_ physical therapy, but he continues nonetheless.

 

"I'm pretty sure he's excited for it. Dad and his Majesty send their regards, as well as over half the Crownsguard." The gesture Gladiolus makes with his hand makes Noctis's eyes follow them to see the sight he was referring to.

 

Flowers. Not just a few, but what had to be at least _two dozen_ different vases were filled to overflowing with all types of flowers; some with the corners of envelopes sticking out from the edges, others having little stuffed animals tied around the vases. All kinds of colors, shapes, and scents were filling his senses now, he's surprised that they weren't the first thing he noticed after waking up. Noctis is barely able to make out the one vase full with the Galahdian flowers that was the first of so many before his awe overtakes him.

 

"Wow." He breathes out the wonder he's feeling as his eyes fall back to Gladiolus.

 

"It's all for me?" He simply can't comprehend it. It's not like what he did was worth _celebrating_ , he just did what anyone else would have done and nothing more… right?

 

"Don't act so surprised. The news channels have been _going insane_ since they caught wind of what's happened. These ones are _just_ from us and the Crownsguard. The ones from Dad, Iris, and I are there," He points to the ones filled ironically to the brim with familiar iris and gladiolus blooms, beautiful in their blue-violet arrangement.

 

The sheer amount of flowers and gifts for him here are a little overwhelming to think about. So many wanted to send him good wishes, even those who had never known him.

 

"And the one from your dad is over there." He follows his the line of his arm, twisting his neck to see the generous vase of sylleblossoms on his nightstand, the sight their soft purple coloring alone making him smile.

 

"There's so much more from where these came from, and we're not sure what to do with them all."

 

It takes Noctis a moment to respond to that.

 

"Why not use them to decorate some of the meeting halls and corridors? They'd probably make the place look a little livelier and everyone could enjoy them that way. Besides, any more of these flowers and I'd probably never want to smell one again." He jokes to cover the fact that didn't like the idea of all of these flowers being holed up here in his room, just wasting away altogether because he couldn't move from his room.

At least if everyone were to enjoy them, he'd be able to rest a little better.

 

"Sounds like a good idea, I'll mention it to someone."

 

"How's Iris?" No doubt concerned for his well-being, but hearing her be alright could have been another source of good news.

 

Suddenly Gladiolus has _that smirk_ on his face. It's the kind of curl-of-the-edges-of-the-lips confidence that comes with knowing the ultimate joke when no one else understood it, or knowing the plot twist of a movie before anyone else even can _call it coming._ The atmosphere changes to become more amiable and Noctis is excited to hear what's happened.

 

"She's been worried for you too, but she did _great_ when she was helping us get you to surgery. I saw her pistol-whip an assassin with the high heels she'd been wearing that night. I don't think I'll ever look at those shoes the same way ever again. " At first he thought that Gladiolus was joking, _but he wasn't_.

 

"No joke. Remember those heels she'd been wearing? She had some backup flats in her purse and literally used it as a weapon when she lost her dagger. There were more attackers trying to get the jump on us while we were moving you. I couldn't believe I was seeing it until I saw blood on those awful things. _She was so angry._ "

 

Noctis couldn't even _breathe_ after a statement like that through his laughter. The next few moments were filled with Noctis nearly bursting his stitches, and Gladiolus looking partly proud that he had made his friend laugh so hard, and partly mortified and concerned if he needed a healer. The light weight of Noctis's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

 

"I know she said 'beauty is pain' and all that, but _man_ that's just too great." His breathing was uneven, the pale expanse of his battered and bandaged torso still shaking with laughter. It takes a while for him to stop laughing, but when his wheezes finally steady out, he takes one more good look at the man sitting at his bedside.

 

He looked _worn_ , there were bags under his eyes and the tense outline of his shoulders told him more than he had wanted to know. He was trying to still blame himself for failing his duty as shield, trying to make up for it by staying at his bedside as he slept like Ignis had probably done. How long had Gladio been waiting for him to wake up, let alone _Ignis?_

 

"How have you been holding up? I'm sure a sleeping Prince must be just _so hard_ to protect."  
 

"Yeah, just the _worst._ I mean, he just does nothing but stand in the line of fire, tells the world 'Not today Ifrit' and does my dad's job for him. Meanwhile everyone's acting like he's gonna die, when _I know_ that I trained him to do better than that." Gladiolus crosses his arms over his chest then, trying to create a barrier from the emotions he'd been hiding and Noctis, who regardless saw right through the tough-guy act.

 

He was probably trying to blame himself, but he'd probably get over it with time. No one could change the past, only deal with the present to make for a better future. He smiles at his friend's attempts at coping, and a new voice emerges from the reception portion of the royal chambers, annoying elegant for a man who seems to have just woken up.

 

"Noctis, you're awake. I'm so glad." The advisor looks _terrible_ in comparison to his usual presentable self; starting with the offending presence of _wrinkles_ in the dress shirt and the _slight askew_ of the blond's normally perfect pompadour made the edge of Noctis's lips curve upwards slightly.

 

Ignis took a few careful steps forward, as if afraid to intrude in the royal chambers he would otherwise enter day in and day out without a second thought.

 

"How are you feeling, your Highness?" Whenever nervous or cautious of how to proceed, Ignis would always fall back on his courtesies and polite tones. Noctis swallows a groan, because he had _just_ gotten him used to using his name too, did Ignis think he was to blame for this somehow?

 

"Iggy, you just called me Noct. Stick with it, it's just me and Gladio here." Noctis is leaning back against the mountain of pillows he's been hoarding now, tenderly pulling up the heavy comforter. He's known them the longest, and while he doesn't care about them seeing his body, but he _does_ care about them seeing the bandages now, almost hypersensitive to where their eyes were throughout the conversation.

 

"How long was I asleep?"

 

"Sorry Specs, I had no idea when you came in. I just saw you passed out over there and made sure to not wake you. Noct's only been up for a few minutes. He didn't wanna wake you."

 

"You looked like you needed sleep more than I did." Noctis was trying to make him smile, and if he could get Ignis to smile then there was hope for him not bearing the weight of a blame that wasn't his ( _that also wasn't any of theirs to call their own._ )

 

Ignis doesn't even take a beat before he'd carefully placed himself closer to the bed, hands hovering and eyes scanning for _something_ Noctis couldn't even understand unless he was holding a sign.

 

"Noctis, I am _so sorry_ about what happened. If there was any way that I could have traded my place for yours I-"

 

Noctis cuts him off before he even realizes it. What Ignis is trying to look for is _forgiveness_ for a treason he didn't commit.

 

"Ignis _no._ Don’t you _dare_ finish that statement. I won't apologize for protecting my dad, and I'd do it again without a thought if it came down to it." He tried to leave no room for argument in his voice, but is cut off by a fit of coughs. When was the last time he had a drink?

 

"Hey, take it easy, Noct. But really though, how are _you_ feeling?" Gladio trains an eye on Noctis as Ignis moves towards the kitchenette, no doubt already preparing something for him.

 

"Like I was shot."

 

"Wow. Good to see they didn't hit your funnybone."

 

"Or else I wouldn't be here. It's a vital bone to have around here you know, it protects you from the dangers of living a boring life, or worse, _enjoying council meetings_ … I'm glad you found that _… humerus_." Noctis takes the cup of water placed in front of him by Ignis, completely unaware of how dry his throat was until he was taking greedy gulps of the cool drink from the cup.

 

He hears Gladio snort, "be careful. The last thing we need is for you to survive an assassination attempt to be taken down by a cup of water."

 

Ignis takes the empty cup back and pulls out his phone, which reminds Noctis of the missing member of their quartet.

 

"Two questions: how long have I been out, and how is Prompto dealing with this?"

 

"I've been calling him to keep him updated, but when you have the strength to be awake for more than ten minutes, we'll talk about letting him visit. No doubt he also is trying to blame himself for this." Gladio is on his phone as he speaks, probably sending a few texts to him as he spoke.

 

"Tell him to bring me a burger when he visits, I believe that I deserve a treat for suffering through that Ball in the first place."

 

"With all due respect, absolutely _not,_ your Highness. I've already spoken to the doctors and the last thing you need are high salt and sodium meals. Don't even get me started on what the cholesterol content _alone_ of those burgers could do to your digestive system while you're still healing. I'm aware that high protein and high carb dishes are the best for you right now, so I can inform you that many of your next few meals will include copious amounts of meat and pasta after we move from post-surgery sustenance. Your father has already expressed his concern for your weight and I for one completely agree with his Majesty."

 

Noctis was a little concerned by the sheer amount of passion in his voice, but had already decided to surrendering to it. It was already far better than having him try to beat himself up about his wounds.

 

"You got out of surgery about two days ago. You were moved about a day later to your rooms here. Don't try and push yourself too hard, Noct. We only just got you back." Gladiolus clapped a hand on Noct's, finding relief in the warmth that met his hand.

 

Only two days and it feels like he's been asleep for a year.

 

"What did I miss?'

 

He notices the tablet that Ignis has pulled out now, unlocking it  and runs through the list with the efficiency that Noctis has always relied on him to have.

 

"The castle is in some level of disarray since the ball, but morale is high since they announced your surgery successful. The Crownsguard-Kingsglaive rivalry has gotten better, especially in comparison to what it was in recent light of your injury. Social media outlets and news channels have been running through the story and it's _still_ is a circus. The entire Citadel is flooding with good wishes for your health and many temples to the Six and others had to be re-opened to accommodate the influx of citizens leaving offerings there for your sake. "

 

Ignis keeps going on about how the people- _his people_ are considering his injury to be a national travesty and how much they are trying to hold strong- _all for him._ He has a hard time understanding what he's done to deserve this much praise. He feels a stillness in his chest and he isn't sure if his heart has just stopped, or if the painkillers are kicking in again.

 

"The entire Kingdom isn't seeing you as a child anymore, Noctis, they find you as a self-sacrificing man worth getting behind. I already have a plethora of emails from nobles have been requesting audiences with you to present their oaths of fealty, even though it isn’t the proper time for it." When Ignis isn't scrolling through a list he has on his tablet, he has the stylus of it rolling between his thumb and index finger in pace with the rapidly working gears of his mind. Noctis is barely able to close his mouth, let alone barely realize that his jaw was slightly slack in the omission in the first place.

 

"…Is there any way to reassure the people that I appreciate everything they've done?" It's too much to even _hear_ this, so turning on a TV or checking his phone is out of the question entirely.

 

"Prompto would be the best for that. Taking a picture with all of the gifts and flowers would also let the people know that you see their efforts and that you're going strong because of their love for you."

 

The idea of so many actually caring for him, let alone _to this extent_ made him want to jump to the nearest window to wave and wave at anyone passing by. No doubt that the square was filled with loving Crown Citizens regardless.

 

"Make sure he comes over soon. The sooner we can post the photo, the better spirits everyone will be in." That and he wanted an excuse to see Prompto again, no doubt he was worried for his best friend like Noctis already was.

 

"Your actions also seemed to have sparked a new outrage against Niflheim in the war. We're already seeing a small influx of applicants for Crownsguard, Kingsglaive, and the general infantries. But with the strides we've already been making on the warfront, it'll be unnecessary." Gladio is speaking now, smiling through the extra information he's passing on as Noctis finds a confusing light in the bright brown eyes.

 

Hm..

 

"Ask the new applicants if they'd be interested in relief efforts in our territories. Use my name if you have to. They could at least make for more hands on deck for patrols and protection for those living in the more rural areas. We have to make sure that the outrage is to the Emperor and the real culprits, not just anyone from Niflheim whose switched their alliances to our side. We can't have infighting at a time like this." Noctis finds his hands twisting as he works through possible implications. The gears of his mind are hazy and taking their time getting started, but they're still whole and ready to get to work. 

 

"If dad hasn't released a statement yet, I'll probably need to. Being united at a time like this is _exactly_ what we need to be."

 

"I concur. These seem to be the best courses of action." Ignis seems to also have that light in his eyes now, almost highlighted by the light reflecting off of his glasses.

 

"And Ignis?"

 

"Yes, Noctis?

 

"Grab an aide or three, we're both probably going to need it to get through all that paperwork. The last thing we need to do is take a nap while it reproduces on its own. You know how bad it gets." He sighs at the sight of the paperwork that was at the coffee table he spied at the reception room's coffee table. There was no way Ignis could complete all of that on his own (but saying that out loud could have been taken as a _challenge_ to the bespectacled man), so divide and conquer it is.

 

"Of course."

 

"Noct, don't you want to get some more rest first?" Gladiolus is eyeing him cautiously, a hand hovering over at his shoulder as Noctis shifts himself somewhat upright to continue.

 

"Eh, I've slept enough for now, might as well get something done." He knew that the idea of him _actually wanting_ to get work done was odd, and completely absurd when considering his injury.

 

"Are you _sure_ you didn't get hit in the head as well? Maybe I should get a healer." Gladio places a hand on Noctis's forehead, as if expecting to find a fever there.

 

Noctis knocked off the oversized hand from his forehead with a small smile. He was well aware that if he didn't do _something_ , Ignis would try to do it all and try to take care of him on top of it all. If he was healthy enough to do paperwork, then he could convince everyone that his injuries _weren't so_ terrible, and that it wasn't so serious as everyone had probably been making it out to be.

 

"Ha ha. You're _so_ funny. But since you seem so willing for me to rest for once, why don't you move some of the paper work here, and maybe use your brain for once and help me get some of these done?" His teasing is met with a mussing of his hair and the rustling of stacks of paperwork move closer to him.

 

\--

 

It takes their combined efforts (him, Gladio, Ignis, and the three new aides) to work through the reports, council meeting reports over the past few days, some of Noctis's delayed paperwork, and through some of the Prince's new ideas. One of the aides even gets to wrangle a speechwriter from the chaos of their Public Relations department to sit down with Noctis and clack away on a laptop as Noctis talks through what he wants to say and reads through Drautos's report of the invasion attempt and Cor's account of the events. He loses the track of time as ideas are bouncing off the proverbial board.  By the time the food Ignis had ordered for everyone from the kitchens arrive, Noctis is able to smile at the sizeable dent they've made in their workload and texts Prompto to visit him tomorrow.

 

After eating, the full feeling of his soft food dinner (which was really an applaudable culinary attempt of post-surgery food) had Noctis fighting the heavy weight of his eyelids. He nearly gets in an argument with Gladio and Ignis when they try to move the unfinished work from in front of him. They win against his protests regardless, and Ignis is able to pluck an envelope decorated with the royal seal on it from the vase his father sent him.

 

"His Majesty left this in the vase, I'm sure that he wanted you to read it before you went back to sleep. I'll ensure that the nurses come to visit you tomorrow and that the healers make another check up on you."

 

Noctis takes the envelope carefully for someone who has handled so many other royal documents before. But this time is different. It isn't a simple invitation to a father-son brunch or to another council meeting- _It's a personal letter from father to son_ and Noctis is a little scared to read it.

 

He looks back at the sylleblossom vase to see another item sitting at the base of the vase: the Carbuncle figurine that he'd gifted him so many years ago. He reverently picks up the wooden memory and feels his shoulders hunch forwards, like when he was a child again and Carbuncle was still a constant companion.

 

He slides down on the pillows now, the envelope in one hand and Carbuncle in his lap, his heart beating too fast for his slow and controlled breaths.

 

He waits until Ignis leaves before carefully ripping open the seal and opening the letter within, eyes scanning and searching for something he didn't even realize that he had been looking for.

 

 

 

_My dearest son._

_I am unsure if whether or not you remember our conversation earlier, but nevertheless I fear that I have left so much unsaid. Seeing your noble sacrifice reminded me of how blessed I am to be given the privilege of calling you my son. I always fear that my responsibilities have left you alone without your only family to guide you into the role you will one day inherit from me, as I have from my father, and he his father._

_Noctis, I cannot seem to find the words in our limited language to express how much I love you. You have always been the light of my night sky ever since your mother first described you to me, leaving me only on bated breath until I was finally able to hold you in my arms and call you my son. It was why I named you as such, my child. From that day on, I swore to protect you from all those who wished you harm, and yet you have become the protector and I the protected. I nearly lost you, Noctis, and it is a fear that I never want to feel ever again, for you are so dear to me, my son, that I consider your pain my own and anyone who wishes you harm to be my enemy. I was so afraid that you would depart from this mortal realm before I could ever articulate how terrified and ashamed I had felt when you apologized for not being the son you thought I deserved, when it was I falling short of being a father you deserved. I know that simple words on paper will always pale in comparison to actions, however as I will renew my efforts to make more time for you, I feel that by writing this, I can give you something to always have on you as a tangible reminder._

_One day, when you have a child to call your own, and I hope you may find yourself to understand._

 

_Your loving father_

_Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII_

 

 

 

He loses count of how many times he's read and _re-_ read certain lines, but eventually, he carefully refolds the letter and leaves it at the nightstand in front of the bouquet. He has an easy time returning to rest now as he promises himself to reread it a few more times when he wakes up. His mind returning with more memories of the conversation he and his dad had earlier as the envelope is reverently placed at the base of the vase.

 

_"You have a heart of gold, Noctis… I don't know what I did to deserve such a blessing of a child… Six know that I'll always be so grateful to have you as my son."_

 

What his dad had said there was genuine, and there's this sense of elation in his chest that blooms like a flower when he clutches the figurine a little closer to his chest.

 

_Dad wasn't disappointed in him. He'd made his dad proud._

 

_Dad still loved him. He wasn't a disgrace._

 

It becomes a mantra that he falls asleep to. The smile on his face seemed to contradict the thin lines of moisture running down his cheeks that stain the pillow, but he _swears_ that they're both for the same reason as he clutches Carbuncle's small figure to the warmth blossoming from his sternum.

-

 

There's a murmuring sound in his room; soft rustles of papers carefully betraying the presence of familiarity in his chambers. It's quiet, but it's also enough to wake him up from the half-dazed state that so much rest has reduced his sleeping to.

 

King Regis is in his room again, sitting at Noctis's desk and sifting through paperwork. His back is turned to him, the raiment removed to rest over the back of his chair and Noctis can spy the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his forearms when his left hand reaches for the teacup to bring it to his face. The glint of the Ring of the Lucii catches in a spare ray of sunlight coming from the window, and nothing seems to make sense to him now.

 

He had to be dreaming. It makes no sense for his father to be there when there was still so much more for him to do than just sit around in his room. There were probably countless meetings for him to do today, probably even more since Noctis had gotten injured. It's simply too reminiscent of a good dream  from when he was a child and this was probably just him hallucinating under the painkillers, or maybe did _die_ and everyone has just been too kind to tell him that.

 

Maybe if he sat up and splashed some water on his face, he'd stop seeing things. He doesn't like hallucinating, and this one is just a little cruel. There were too many times where he'd dreamt of this as a child; simply waking up and seeing his dad, as if waiting for him to wake up, then his dad would take him to the Regalia and they would spend all day fishing, as if there weren't more important things to do and as if the country didn't need the King more than Noctis needed his father.

 

Tenderly, he pulls up his arms and tries to move the covers, only for the rustle of his covers to break his hallucination and oh-

 

-His father _really is here._

 

"Noctis?" He's set down the teacup now, a quiet _clank_ in the silent room.

 

"Dad?... Why are you…" _here? Why aren't you going back to work when you're always so busy? It's not like I'm going anywhere, so why aren't you in your study, doing better things than just signing papers here?_

 

He sees his father shift quietly out of the chair and take a seat on the edge of his bed, clasping his warmer, older hands around Noctis's.

 

 _Who knew that green eyes could hold such adoration in them? It wasn't like the sight of him in bandages and not doubt in need of a shower_ was _something to behold. Maybe he was dream- wait, if he was dreaming he wouldn't be able to feel the distinct lack of painkillers like he was now._

 

"I thought you might like to see a familiar face when you wake up." His father is smiling down at him now, and Noctis remembers the words from the letter- _kind, loving, everything he had ever wanted to hear and more_.

 

His eyes just _look_ and pause for a minute at his face. How much had his injury worried his father?

A hot wave of shame seems to file through him now. Even after keeping his dad alive, he's _still_ causing him trouble by making work outside the comfort of his study, probably making him miss meetings to babysit him. His train of thought is halted completely from wildling off the rails when he's in a fierce embrace and there's a kiss on his forehead before a chin is resting on the crown of his head.

 

"Noctis I am so _sorry_ that you got hurt because of me." His father's face is tortured and so loud despite the murmur he had heard it in. The warmth that was in Noctis's chest last night is spreading like a low burning wildfire in his body and he doesn't wait for a cue to return the gesture, seeking warmth in the wrinkles of the dress shirt in front of him.

 

"Dad no, _don’t you do that_ to yourself. It's not your fault. I didn't get hurt because of you, I got hurt because there were people that wanted to _hurt the both of us_." Noctis pulls only the slightest back to meet his father's eyes then, but refuses to break the embrace.  It would _never_ be his father's fault, and he's be willing to tell him that every day so long as it kept those ideas away. He'd rather have the blame on himself that he didn't put the barrier up fast enough than anything else.

 

"Is there a difference?" There's a little bite to the softness in his father's voice, but it's not directed at him, but rather, their circumstances.

 

"I'd like to think so. I mean, there were people that night that wanted to hurt you, I just happened to make a good body shield."

 

"I wouldn’t tell Clarus that, or he might just fear losing his job." There are still hands on his shoulders, and the Ring seems to be trying to give him reassuring waves of magic, some of which seemed to be easing his discomfort. Noctis feels the low murmured whispers of the old Kings in the back of his mind now, calling him wondrous things he'd always want to hear. _'beloved.' 'sweet child. 'dear boy.'_ The endearments make his heart swell a little and he grips his father's other hand in the both of his.

 

He looks over to the breakfast that accompanied Carbuncle on the nightstand.

 

"Don't tell me you ate my jello, I earned that."

 

There's a loud bark of laughter at the accusation when his father pulls away. Part of Noctis wanted to lean forwards to chase after the escaping warmth, and the other part just wants to bask in the light that was glittering in the  green eyes now.

 

"Son, I've been looking at the workload that you've been trying to take on, and we're going to need to have a _long_ talk about all of it."

 

_Oh, well, yeah, he guesses that he wasn't doing enough, but-_

 

"My son, I believe that you've been trying to take on too much in a misguided effort to take on your responsibilities."

 

_-wait what-_

 

"Now, don't get me wrong, while I do appreciate the newfound spare time your efforts have given me, I hope you'll allow me to show you the wonder of letting aides and secretaries handle some of the more menial tasks."

Noctis almost slams his head back onto the pillow in the sheer amount of _relief_ he's feeling right now, but decides to lean into the warm hand on his head now that's ruffling his messy hair .

 

 

"Hey, dad?"

 

"Yes, my boy?" his father's attention seems to be rapt to him, waiting for his son's request.

 

"When this is all over, and I can get back on my feet again… do you think that we could…. Hang out, one day? I mean -"

 

There's a hand tightening around his shoulder now, and Noctis's mind is fully running with _'abort abort abort mission. Nope nope- take it back- retract- do not engage. And-'_

 

"I was going to surprise you with a fishing trip, but it seems that there's no use in hiding it now."

 

It's the second time his mind was too shocked to comprehend anything for a moment today, and he needs a minute.

 

"Really?" He hopes that he doesn't sound too desperate, but how long has it been since he's had a break, in all honesty?

 

"Of course." The wry turn of his father's lips is mischievous.

"I think that we both deserve a day off, don't you?"

 

"Yeah…"

 

"Good. Now let's see what we can do about getting us some more jello. Shall we?"

\--

 

(For nearly a month afterwards, the healers [and more determinedly, Ignis] convince Noctis to temporarily use a cane. Regis insists that he takes one from his ancestors had used instead of the generic ones that had been recommended by the healers. Cor nearly loses it at seeing the Prince hobbling into a Kingsglaive-Crownsguard meeting with the famous cane-sword of _the Conqueror,_ and everyone on the room giving Noctis a standing ovation for his actions in protecting his father. What's makes things worse (or rather, better) is _Drautos_ , who damn near looks scared out of his wits every time one of the Lucian Royals enters the room, the sound of their entrances given away by the canes. Cor almost gets caught using his phone at multiple meetings, but _it is so worth_ 'immortalizing' these looks of unbridled fear of Royal Lucian canes that come from the supposed fearless Kingsglaive captain. And if Noctis was greeted with cheers and applause for the first few days wherever he went after getting back onto his feet, then no one couldn't help but join in.)

 

\--

Regis is handed his phone screen back to him after the aide fiddles with an app for a moment.

 

"Here, your Majesty. This are the trending images that we mentioned."

 

The image was posted from what he could only assume was Prompto's profile on the social media platform that seemed to drive the news cycles these days. It had only two photos attached to it; the first had both his son and Prompto posed and smiling amidst all of the letters and flowers that had been sent to the citadel for his child, who was smiling contentedly as Regis spied his own letter in his child's hands. The second photo included Noctis hard at work sifting through paperwork on his bed, surrounded by Ignis, Gladiolus, and a few aides with a witty caption about 'hardly working vs. working hard'.

 

He re-'kweh'-ed it (supposedly that's what the term is for reposting onto your own profile, he's getting too old for these newfangled social media things, but he'd be damned if he lets Clarus tease him about it).

 

He taps the home screen of his phone then, and the app closes to his phone screen, recently changed to one that reminded him to be a father from time to time instead of being a King constantly.

 

Replacing the phone back into his pocket, he smiles mirthfully as he hears Cor disappear with the keys to the Regalia and Clarus hands off their bags to a butler, sidling up to him silently.

 

"Plan on hitting up Hammerhead as well? See how Cid is doing?"

 

"How could I not? I also plan on seeing his child as well, I hear that his girl Cindy has grown into a beautiful young woman."

 

"King or not, he'll probably still try to kick your ass for not coming down to see him sooner. The last time you saw him, you hadn't even ascended the throne. Weskham might be excited to see you still, even after all of this time."

 

"And you'll keep Cid from killing me, right?"

 

"Depends." There's a smirk in those two syllables and Regis can _hear_ it.

 

"On?"

 

"Whether or not you two stubborn mules can talk through your emotional constipations, or if we can bring along Titus and torture him more." The grin that breaks Clarus's face is _evil_ but Regis finds himself laughing along all the same.

 

"How long until we're ready to leave?" Regis would simply grab his son, hop into the Regalia, and just _disappear_

 

"Only about 20 minutes, but His Highness seems rather eager to be off." For spending the next few days together, in an initial attempt to make up for lost time? Regis was _also_ excited for the prospects.

 

"As am I, Clarus. As am I." The sound of their shoes are lost in the hollow echoing of the hallways

 

"Ah, Captain Drautos!" Regis pretends to not notice the tension in the Captain's shoulders, nor how trained eyes flicker to the slightly dented cane before meeting the King once more.

 

"Sir!"  
 

"I hope that the council won't give you too much trouble for the few days that Noctis and I will be gone."

 

"I'll do my best to keep everything running as smooth as possible on my end, your Majesty, there will be no need to concern yourself."

 

"Good, I hope that you won't let me down, Drautos." Regis claps a hand on Titus's broad shoulder, and meets his eyes dead center.

 

"Assure me that you won't allow any bad news to ruin my vacation with Noctis." Regis's voice takes only the slightest of dip in tone, but Clarus sees the internal screaming behind Drautos's seemingly stoic gaze.

 

"I live to serve, your Majesty. I wish you safe travels with his Highness and for peace of mind on your trip." He bows his head then, and Clarus is sure it's to avoid looking Regis in the eye as he turns to leave, Clarus wordlessly following in step.

 

He had a feeling that their father-son fishing trips were going to be more of a common occurrence, given that Cid doesn't kill him this time around.

 

There's another buzz in his pocket and Regis pulls out his phone to see the text.

 

_'Dad, why did you re-kwehed Prom's photos? He's going insane right now. And how did you even get a Kwehtter account?'_

 

_'Because I live to embarrass you, my boy. It's my job.'_

 

_'I thought your job was being king'_

 

_'father first, then king. My first job is to embarrass you in front of your friends, then I embarrass you in front of our entire kingdom. >:)'_

 

_' this is why I fear my birthdays'_

 

 _'careful now, or you'll give me ideas. I'll see you in a few minutes. Love you.'_ It wasn't something Regis had ever said enough, despite his eloquence and power to silence a room with his mere presence. But with the newfound time they were both making to meet each other in the middle, he found himself constantly looking for new little moments and niches to cherish and remind his son of how much he was loved, and Regis of what he wasn't missing out on as a father.

 

_'love you too dad.'_

 

He puts the phone away and the King smiles, happily walking in the crossroads of Kingship and Fatherhood. 

 

And if by the end of the trip Regis ends up with an entire album dedicated to pictures of him and Noctis enjoying their trip, specifically pictures of his child's smile that seemed to radiate beyond the simple phone screen, then scaring the hell out of Cid was completely worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember in the third chapter where Noctis falls asleep and I mentioned how Regis "fiddled with his phone for a second' before leaving to go back into his room to sleep?  
> Yeah, its that moment where he took the photo; that or baby noctis sleeping on his shoulder
> 
> Kwehtter is my idea of the Lucian equivalent of Twitter, with cute chocobos and everything
> 
>  
> 
> That's all for this one folks. I just wanted to thank every single reader and lovely who took the time to leave comments, kudos, bookmarks, and simply just re-read this monster of a fic.
> 
> Thank you!


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